Best Laid Plans
by Rosea
Summary: Ian, Barbara, 1st Doctor. At the end of the Romans, Barbara and Ian used the great fire as cover for their escape. What if things didn't go according to plan and Ian was caught... Finally complete.
1. Chapter 1

**The Best Laid Plans...**

At the end of the Romans, Barbara and Ian used the Great Fire as cover to escape and return to Assysium. But what would have happened if Sevcheria had been a bit more alert and caught Ian before he managed to sneak into the palace.

Nero is this is based on the Doctor Who Nero, not the real person.

I don't own Doctor Who despite my deepest desires, and don't make any profit from these stories.

**Chapter 1- The Bargain**

Nero grabbed Barbara by the arm and hauled her down the hallway.

"Where are you taking me?" Barbara demanded.

"You'll see," Nero said. He signalled to two guards standing by a door. They opened it and saluted as the Emperor swept past with Barbara in tow. "You see my dear, I always keep my promises."

Barbara gasped with fear and surprise. Ian knelt on the floor, his hands bound behind his back and two soldiers at his shoulders, their swords crossed across his throat. As he looked up at her, Barbara had ample time to study his blood stained face. His lip was split, a bleeding cut ran across his forehead and a graze on his left cheek bled sluggishly.

"Barbara," he said when his eyes fell on her. He was rewarded with a cuff to the head by one of the soldiers.

Barbara gasped his name as one of the swords slid, cutting a shallow slice into his neck.

"I didn't manage to caste the other one, but I hardly think that matters," Nero said, "This one will do just as well. Now, you will do exactly what I order, or you friend here will suffer."

"You can't be serious," Barbara said. Nero had come across as a foolish dreamer to hr before, this side of him was completely unexpected.

"Deadly serious, my dear. Allow me to demonstrate."

He nodded to the soldiers who sheathed their swords, cut the cords around Ian's wrists and hauled him to his feet. The removed his rough vest and pulled his tunic down over his shoulders, leaving his torso bare. All the time Ian kept his eyes firmly on Barbara. _Don't worry_, his eyes said, _we'll get out of here somehow_.

The two soldiers each slipped a loop of rope around Ian's wrists and stretched his arms out wide. A third soldier shook out a vicious looking whip.

"No!" Barbara cried as she realised what was about to happen. "You can't do this!"

"But I can," Nero said. "And it will convince you that I mean exactly what I say. Proceed, twenty lashes."

Ian gasped, as much with surprise as pain as the first blow fell across his back, but after that he set his jaw, kept his eyes firmly on Barbara and endure the flogging in silence. Only the tightening of the muscles around his eyes and mouth gave any hint of pain.

When the last blow fell Nero held up his hand and glanced at Barbara. "Well?" he asked, "Do you yield or should I let them continue?"

Barbara, tears running down her cheeks, looked from Nero to Ian who shook his head, and then back at Nero. He had won. She could not stand by and watch as her friend, companion and love was tortured when it was in her power to stop it. She nodded her head miserably.

"Good," Nero purred, "Very good. Take him away."

The soldiers released Ian's arms and he sagged forward, almost falling to his knees. Barbara saw the full result of her small defiance- bloody welts and mangled skin.

"One condition," she said firmly as the soldiers were about to haul Ian away.

"Yes?" Nero asked, holding up a hand to stop the soldiers.

"I am allowed to see him every day," Barbara said, "While I obey you, he is not to be harmed, and I want to make sure you keep your end of the bargain."

"You may see him once a week," Nero said.

"Every second day."

"Very well, but you may not speak to him."

"No, otherwise you may hurt him where I cannot see," Barbara countered.

Ian raised an amused eyebrow, then winced as one of the guards twisted his arm, pulling the bloody wounds across his back. He had not known hat Barbara could be such a hard bargainer.

Nero inclined his head in agreement. "But your visits will always be observed."

Barbara also nodded, knowing that she would get no further concessions from the Emperor. "Your command, Caesar Nero," she said, bowing her head in supplication and swallowing bitter gall as she did so.

Nero waved a hand at the soldiers, "Take him away and make him secure," he commanded, "See that he is closely guarded, I wouldn't want any harm to come to him." He waited until the guards had dragged Ian out then turned back to Barbara, who had been watching Ian with a pained heart. "I want you," he said to her, "I want you to serve me and entrance me, I want you to entertain and amuse me. But you are spirited and I want that spark to remain, and capture with no pursuit has no gain."

Barbara remained still, unsure of exactly what he was talking about.

"You will serve me, but do not allow me near you, not yet, not until I capture you, then you will submit to me," Nero said, "Go, elude me, hide from me, tease me. Run, my dove, run!"

Barbara needed no further prompting and ran. If she was clever she could keep the fat little monarch on his toes. She would find Tavius, let him know that their escape plans had failed and see if he could come up with a new plan. She only hoped that Ian would be all right until she saw him again. Two days was a long time to wait, but wait she must.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2- Imprisoned, again****.**

Ian was hustled along a corridor by the guards, through several doors and down a flight of steps into the bowels of the palace. His back was a blaze of pain and he could feel the hot blood trickling down his back. His mind was blank, his entire being concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over or passing out.

The guards who escorted him were not unduly rough, but neither were they gentle as they propelled him into on of the many cellars under the palace. He was shoved past bales and barrels to the back of the large, dark cellar where another pair of guards were waiting. One was holding a torch and the other a set of shackles.

Ian balked at the sight of the chains, his five days as a galley slave, chained to a heavy ore, fresh in his mind. He was rewarded with a clout across the back, right over the worst of the welts, and nearly fainted as fresh pain lanced through his torso. He regained consciousness through sheer force of will and made himself stand rock steady as shackles were closed around his wrists and ankles. He could not, however, stop from flinching when they closed a thick iron collar around his neck. A chain five or six feet long attached the collar to a ring in the wall, allowing him only limited freedom of movement.

Their prisoner firmly secured, the soldiers left, taking the torches with them and leaving Ian in dark. He sagged to the paving stones and sat cross legged, bracing his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward in an effort to dispel the dizziness which sent his head spinning. He rubbed his bruised face and shifted his shoulders a little to assess the extent of the damage to his back. Pain flared across his back and his breath hissed between his teeth and tried to stop himself screaming out loud. He would not be lying on his back for some time.

Slowly the pain subsided and he managed to relax his tense muscles. He had been hurt before on his travels with the Doctor, but no one had yet deliberately caused him pain. He explored his bonds and determined that there was no way that he could break loose from them. The chains clinked spitefully at him.

Everything had gone so horribly wrong. They were supposed to be on their way back to Assysium, not trapped in Nero's palace, captive and helpless. Would the Doctor wait for them? Would he come looking for them? Did he tell Delos about the Doctor during their quiet conversations in the galleys ore deck? Would Delos think of going to the Doctor for help?

The worst of the situation was the deal Barbara had been forced to make, The thought of her willingly submitting to that madman was worse torture that the flogging, made more unbearable because she was doing it to save him. He could have stood the pain knowing she was firm in her defiance.

He shifted position, the floor was very hard and leaned his head and shoulder against the wall, the only comfortable position he could find. He was at a loss at what to do. There was nothing he could do, chained and helpless. But he would see Barbara soon and then they could make plans to escape. All he had to do was wait and think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3- Friends in unlikely places**

Ian didn't know he had fallen asleep until sometime cool and wet woke him up with a start. Months of living with the Doctor, having to defend himself at a moment notice had honed his reflexes and before he was fully awake he had struck, grabbing at the person behind him. He instantly regretted it as the wounds on his back pulled and he grunted with pain, releasing the wrist he had caught. He turned to see a woman of middle to advancing year tutting at him. A lamp and a bowl sat on the floor at her side.

"They didn't tell me you were that fast," she said. "Sit still, boy, while I clean these wounds."

Ian didn't appreciate being called a boy when he was two years shy of his thirtieth birthday. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Anthea," the woman said, "Here, put this on the cut on you head. And sit still."

She handed him a dampened rag wrapped while she applied another to his lacerated back, gently cleaning off the blood. Ian did as ordered, holding the cool pad to the throbbing gash on his forehead. He could smell something pungent in the rag.

"Comfrey and betony," Anthea said without being asked, "To help the wound heal cleanly. What's you name, boy?"

"Ian," he replied, "Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" He knew that he sounded ungrateful, but he wasn't in the mood to be nice to anyone.

"Marcus said that you were hurt and asked me to look in on you," Anthea said, "He's a good hearted boy, but bound to obey orders, just like all soldiers."

"It feels good, thankyou," Ian said. It did feel good, even though the lightest touch on the welts hurt.

"Ian is not a Roman name," she said, "Where are you from?"

"England... Britannia," Ian corrected himself.

"You are a long way from home."

Ian gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yes, a very long way."

"Well, that's done. How is your head?"

Ian shifted the rag wrapped poultice a little and explored the wound. It wasn't very deep and although it had bled profusely, like all head wounds, it was already starting to clot. "I'll live."

"I'll leave you with that while I see about making your stay a bit more comfortable. I don't approve of chaining people up like animals, even slaves, but we do as Nero commands."

"I'm not a slave," Ian objected.

"Oh?"

"I was kidnapped from my home with my wife," the lie rolled easily off his tongue. "They brought her to Rome, I came by a more circuitous route."

"Most slaves were kidnapped or captured from somewhere. Where you a soldier? You certainly move like one."

"No," Ian said, "Not a soldier, but I have had some interesting times recently."

"And you ended up here."

"By one means or another, yes."

Anthea picked up her bowl and lantern. "God's purpose cannot easily be understood," she said as she rose, "I'll be back later with a blanket and something for you to eat, they can't deny you that!"

Ian was left alone in the dark as she left, feeling refreshed and heartened by her kindness. Kindness had been in short supply during his time of slavery. Maybe he would survive this after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4- Avoiding Nero**

Barbara checked carefully before stepping into the corridor. Nero was on the prowl for her and she had no intention of letting him catch her. She would serve him as ordered, but nothing more. She moved stealthily along the wide hallway to the place she had requested to meet Tavius. Silently she slipped into the room. Tavius was waiting for her.

"Tavius," Barbara greeted her friend and ally with relief, "Thankyou for coming."

Tavius nodded. "The plan for escape did not work," he said sadly, "The guards spotted your friend before I could reach him. He managed to give the other a chance to get away."

"I saw him earlier, he was hurt," Barbara said, trying not to wring her hands in agitation.

"He did not give up without a fight," Tavius said, "He is a skilled combatant."

"He has saved my life more times than I care to remember," Barbara said. "Have you seen him? Is he all right? Do you know where he is?"

"He is being held in one of the cellars. One of the soldiers charged with guarding him sent for Anthea, a servant who knows some herb craft, to tend to his wounds," Tavius reported. "She tells me that he is well enough under the circumstances. I have arranged for food and water to be sent to him, and Anthea will keep an eye on him."

"Thankyou, Tavius. He was hurt because of me," she said sadly.

"It is because of you that he is still alive," Tavius rejoined, "If Nero hadn't wanted your willing cooperation he would already be dead."

"Then you know of the deal I struck with Nero."

"Yes, and you did well to get the concessions you did, but be careful of him, he is not as foolish as he may sometimes seem and if he decides to go back on the deal, there is nothing anyone can do about it," Tavius warned.

Barbara shook her head in despair, "All we are is pawns for him to play with."

"Not entirely. You could grow to have considerable influence in the court."

"I don't want to have influence in the court," Barbara dismissed the idea as she paced back and forth, "All I want is to find some way to get Ian out and getting out of Rome."

_Before_, she added in her mind, _the Doctor leaves us here. Before Nero orders me to his bed_.

"I will see what I can do to help," Tavius.

"Maybe if you could get a message to our friend in Assysium," Barbara said, "He could help."

"I will send a messenger. What is his name and where would he be found?"

"He is called the Doctor," Barbara said without hesitation, she trusted Tavius as she trusted no other in Rome. "He will be in the villa above the village, the townspeople know the one."

"I will organise it straight away, and I will get what comforts I can to your friend."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5- Poppaea takes an interest**

Poppaea, the Empress, was the next person to call on Tavius' presence.

"Tavius, I thought I thought I told you to get rid of the new servant," she said as soon as Tavius had made his bow to her. Her nose was still put out of joint by her failure to poison her rival. Locusta, the poisoner, was currently in the arena prison awaiting her death as a reward for that failure.

"My Lady, the Caesar Nero has ordered the girl remain," Tavius said, "I cannot go against his wishes."

Poppaea threw the goblet of wine she had been drinking from. It hit the pillar beside Tavius with a loud clang. Wind spattered all over the floor, pillar and drapes and Tavius' clothes. He suppressed a long suffering sigh, wine stains were difficult to remove from satin. He watched as Poppaea paced back and forth, he knew not to interrupt her as her uncertain temper was already up.

She stopped mid stride and whirled to face him. "I am told that my dear husband captured a man trying to get into the palace today, a man this Barbara is connected to. Where is he?"

_Damn_, thought Tavius. He was afraid that Poppaea would try to use Ian, but he could not lie to her, she would know it and he would be of no use to either of the captive Britons dead.

"He is in the cellars, my Lady, Caesar Nero is holding him under strict orders," he said, hoping to impress on her that Ian was off limits. He didn't hold much hope that she would take heed.

"Thankyou, Tavius, you may go," Poppaea said and stalked to the window, her face a study of contemplation.

Tavius felt his heart plummet as he left. Ian was already a helpless prisoner, and now it looked as though he would become another sacrificial pawn in Poppaea's endless schemes. What made it worse was that there was almost nothing he could do about it. He had to find a way to free the pair from Nero's power before they both lost their lives.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6- Recriminations

**Chapter 6- Recriminations**

Ian shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position and failing miserably. The stone floor was hard and cold and he felt as though all the warmth in his body was being drained away by the hungry stones. The only benefit of the cold was that it was numbing the pain in his back, now a dull throb instead of sharp jabs. The down side was that his abused muscles and joints were becoming still and unresponsive.

He was exhausted but the cold, the pain of his injuries and his tumultuous thoughts kept him awake. He had been brooding for hours, going over and over the events leading up to their current predicament, analysing and questioning each decision he had made. Even with the wisdom of hindsight he had to admit that most of the decision had been made for him, and that without more detailed knowledge, which he still didn't have, there were not many choices he could have made differently. The frustration and helplessness of the situation made him want to howl with fury.

Instead of voicing his frustrations he pulled at the chain which kept him tethered like a dog to the wall. He knew it wouldn't break no matter how hard he pulled, but something primal inside him made him want to try and try. _Just a little, please just a little_.

A light shining behind the wall of bales stopped him before he could rip his hands on the chain. He dropped it and turned to face his visitor, half expecting the guards to come and knock him about some more for making too much noise.

It turned out to Anthea bearing a bundle, a bucket and lamp. Ian released his pent up breath and relaxed.

"Ian, are you well?" she asked, holding up the lamp to see into the darkness.

"Well enough," he said with a half hearted smile. "Thanks for coming back."

"I said I would. What happened to your face?" Anthea asked when she saw the bruise and the new blood on his forehead.

"I had a visit from the Empress last night," Ian said, gently touching the tender the swelling on his temple.

Anthea put her load on the floor and unwrapped the bundle to reveal a woven reed mat and blanket, then pulled a cloth wrapped package of food and ceramic bottle from the bucket. "That's not good," she said, looking troubled. "Things have a way of getting complicated around her. I'll clean off that wound in a moment, but first," she passed Ian the blanket. "Tavius said that I could bring you a few things."

"Who is Tavius?" Ian asked, gratefully pulling the blanket around him. The rough wool was scratchy on his still tender back, but at least the welts weren't bleeding any more.

"He is the head of Nero's household, in charge of the daily running. He is a good man."

There was more that Anthea wasn't telling him, Ian could sense her reticence, but he did not pry. If Tavius had the power to provide him with even a few small comforts, he had the power to take them away again. He rubbed absently at where the heavy metal collar was starting to chafe the back of his neck. Chains clanked as he did so and he swore in the privacy of his own mind.

"Can you thank him for me?" Ian asked.

Anthea nodded and unwrapped some food. Just the smell of the bread, cheese and olives was enough to set Ian's stomach rumbling. She smiled at the sound but did not laugh. "How long is it since you last ate?" she asked.

Ian tore hungrily into the bread and hastily swallowed it before answering so he didn't spray her with crumbs. He had lost track of the time since he had been chained in the dark, but hunger had been starting to bite. "I don't really know, at least a full day," he said.

Probably more, considering that he had been too worried about Barbara to eat anything he had been offered in prison. He was still worried about her, but at least in this prison he knew where she was and that she was more or less all right. For now.

"Longer I would say," Anthea said, echoing his thoughts. "Luckily Nero hasn't said anything about starving you, so I'll be here at least twice a day. Now, let me see your back."

Ian gratefully turned his back towards her as he finished the last of the bread and soft cheese and started on the olives. He would have company twice a day, at least, and that would make life more bearable. The thought of being trapped in the dark without another living soul to talk to terrified him.

Anthea held up her lamp to examine the welts on Ian's back. They weren't bleeding any more but they were starting to ooze pale straw coloured lymph fluid as the scabs started to form. She patted off the excess fluid and smoothed something cool and pungent onto the raw wounds, making Ian jump with each gentle touch.

"This will help stop the wounds from becoming infected," she said, "It is made of honey and olive oil infused with healing oils."

Honey is antibacterial, Ian thought, I wish I had some penicillin, that would really help keep infection at bay. Anthea finished her ministrations and tucking the blanket back around him.

"Do you think that Tavius will be able to get a message to my wife?" Ian asked as Anthea gathered her things together.

"Quite likely. What do you want to tell her?"

Ian was relieved that Anthea seemed so willing to help him, but also wary, he still didn't know who he could trust in this place. "Just tell her that I am all right and that I don't blame her."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll be back tomorrow morning, until then keep warm." She rose with her lamp and gave him a warm smile, "Don't despair, Ian, not everything is lost."

"Not yet," Ian whispered as she left, taking the light with her. "Not yet."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Friendship

**Chapter 7- Friendship**

Barbara spent the night in a small room in an unobtrusive part of the palace, a room Tavius had chosen for her for it's distance from the Imperial Suite. It was a comfortable room with all that she needed, but although Barbara was exhausted after a day of dealing with Nero, she was unable to sleep. Her thoughts whirled constantly, stopping her from sleeping even when she did make herself lie down. All she could think about was Ian. Where was he? Was he all right?

As she had lead Nero on a chase through the palace she had searched for any clues, but without success. Every time she came to a door that led out of the main part of the palace she was turned back by a guard. She was trapped.

Now she paced in helpless frustration. She didn't know where he was or how badly he was hurt, or if he was being treated well or not. She wanted to go to him, to beg his forgiveness for getting him flogged, to give him comfort and let him know that he was not alone.

She picked a pillow off the bed, plumped it a couple of times, placed it carefully on the floor, raised the hem of her skirt and kicked it across the room. It hit the wall beside the door just as Tavius opened it.

Tavius raised an eye brow as he picked up the pillow.

"Tavius, I'm so sorry," Barbara said, blushing as she took back the pillow and replaced it on the bed. "Have you any news?"

He nodded, "There is quite a storm building up in the palace," he said. "The city is in flames and palace is in chaos."

Barbara had witnessed the chaos throughout the day as she had ducked and dived around Nero. All the ministers and senators were running around madly all with conflicting ideas on what they should be doing. However she wasn't interested in the politics of the fire, she was interested only in Ian.

"What news of Ian?" she asked.

"Anthea, the Greek healer, is looking after him," Tavius said, "She told me to tell you that Ian said that he was all right and not to blame yourself."

Barbara sat down abruptly and started to cry. All the pent up emotion of the last few days pouring out of her. Tavius stood in silence, blending with the decor of the room and becoming almost invisible as he waited for Barbara to calm again.

Finally Barbara regained her control and smiled at him as she wiped her eyes. "Thankyou, Tavius, I can't tell you how much your friendship means to me. When may I see him?"

"Not until tomorrow morning," Tavius said.

The sun was just starting to rise on the new day. Barbara sighed. Another full day and night before she could see him. "Any what must I do today?"

"Continue to serve Nero as you have been, keep him occupied and let those who can deal with the current crisis do their work."

"I will do my best," Barbara promised.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ian woke feeling light headed and aching in every joint. He massaged his neck as well as he could under the iron collar, trying to rub some of the kinks out. The woven mat that Anthea had brought him had stopped the stone from draining all his warmth, but it did nothing to soften the hard stone. He groaned softly as his neck cracked, and more loudly as he raised his arm too far and pulled the wounds on his back. The slow healing welts felt like rotten cloth, ready to tear with the slightest pressure.

With no notion of the time, Ian could only guess that it was morning. His only clock was his stomach and his own biological rhythms, established over the weeks he had spent in the villa in Assysium. God, that felt like a life time ago.

He felt around for the bucket Anthea had left and used it for its purpose, wishing that he could have a proper wash. He was still sticky from a mixture of sweat, salt, sand and blood and felt completely wretched. What didn't help was the headache which had settled behind his eyes.

He shivered and returned to his blanket. He felt cold and shaky, his back hurt, his head ached and spun, the chains felt like leaden weights pinning him to the ground and every bone in his body screamed for a nice comfortable bed with clean sheets in a nice clean room. He sighed. There wasn't any point in dwelling on what he couldn't have, and settle down to wait for Anthea, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

When he woke again, feeling no better, he found a lamp made of a simple rag wick in a dish of tallow, burning beside a wooden plate containing what had become a usual meal of bread, soft cheese and olives. A jug stood beside the plate and, on investigation, Ian found that he contained a herbal mixture sweetened with honey. He drank it quickly. It wasn't a cup of tea, but it was still good. He was still thirsty and weighed up the chances of the guards being sympathetic enough to fetch him more water. He hadn't actually interacted with the soldiers at all, in fact the only person he had seen since he had been introduced to his prison was Anthea.

"Guard!" he shouted. "Guard!"

There was a faint rattle and a light, far brighter than he was used to, shone between the bales.

"What do you want?" the soldier asked as he rounded the stack.

Ian shielded his eyes as the bright flame of the torch the soldier carried stabbed painfully. After a moment he managed to squint at the man. "How long ago was Anthea here?" he asked.

"About an hour," the soldier said, "She said you were asleep and that she didn't want to wake you."

"What time of day is it?"

"About noon. Is there something you want, or do you just want to talk?" the man asked with a certain amount of impatience.

_I would love someone to talk to_, Ian thought, _preferably someone from my own century_. "I wanted to ask if I could have some more water. Please," he said instead, adding the 'please' late. He really didn't feel like being courteous to his captors, but ill manners wouldn't get him anywhere.

"I'll see," the soldiers said, and left.

Ian felt a wave of dizziness wash over him and staggered, using the wall to guide himself down the floor before his legs gave way. He rubbed his temples and leaned his head back against the wall, his mind whirling.

He stirred briefly when the guard brought more water in a ceramic amphora and murmured a woozy thanks as the guard left again. The amphora, propped against the wall, was heavy and Ian had trouble lifting it. He also had trouble controlling it and when he tried to take a drink from the lip he ended up half soaking himself in the cool, delicious water.

When he had drunk his fill and washed his face in the plentiful liquid, he set the awkward container aside and lay down again, pulling the blanket around him as he shivered with a sudden chill.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9- Rebuilding Rome**

Barbara knelt as she held the silver platter bearing Nero's golden goblet. She held it out to the fat monarch who was busy discussing plans to rebuild Rome with his ministers. He reached out and took the goblet without really looking at her and took a large mouth full while waving the other hand emphatically at his map.

"We shall do away with these areas, poor, dirty and infested with these followers of that Jewish prophet," Nero said, "Sweep away all those who do not belong in our glorious city and rebuild anew, a brighter, more magnificent Rome."

"Caesar, if these areas are cleared, there will be no where for the workers to live, and we still need them," one of the ministers said.

"Fool, traitor," Nero snarled, "You are in league with these Christians."

"I am loyal to Rome, Caesar," the minister said shakily, "Your wish is law."

"It is," Nero said, placated to a certain extent.

Barbara was about to retreat, but Nero grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arm around her as he outlined his plans for whole scale demolition and rebuilding. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried not to cringe as she felt his arm encircling her waist. She tried to think of Ian, of the times he had held her in such a way, but every time she tried to picture their happier times, the images turned to that last moment when she had seen him- a bruised and bleeding prisoner. It hurt that she hadn't been able to see him yet, to see if he was all right. She had so much she needed to say to him, the main theme of which was 'sorry'.

Nero jostled her as made a particularly sweeping gesture. Barbara re-focussed on the fat monarch. His plans wouldn't work, Rome wouldn't be built as he envisaged, it would be rebuilt more or less as it was, but telling him that would be no good. She studied the plans. Unworkable. Expensive.

Someone tried to make a critical comment and Nero flew into a rage. Barbara was hurled aside as Nero shouted for the guards to come and take the unfortunate away, then chased the rest of the senators and advisors out of the room. She sighed and picked herself up, setting about collecting the dropped goblets and other debris of the 'discussion'.

Nero slid his arms around her from behind and pulled her into his lap. "My dove, they don't understand," he mourned, "I want to build a better and brighter future for everyone, but no one understands. All they worry about is trivialities. They have no vision." He lay his head on her shoulder and brooded.

_I wouldn't call cost a triviality_, Barbara thought, _your plan would bankrupt the entire Empire_. She wondered what the best course of action would be. She could wrap her arms around him, but the thought of actually embracing him was nauseating, and with the mood that he was in she could find herself watching Ian's execution if she annoyed him, with hers following close after.

"Would a bath make you feel better, Caesar?" she asked, "You must be tired, you've worked so hard to put your plan together."

"A bath, yes," Caesar said, "A bath and you can give me a massage to relax me." His head descended her shoulder again.

_Like hell_, Barbara thought, "And a nice glass of wine." _A large glass of wine, or two, or three_.

"My dove, you have the most wonderful ideas. Come, let's go."

_Tomorrow_, she thought as she walked with him to the extensive palace baths, _tomorrow I can see Ian_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10- Strange Visitors**

A boot was planted hard in Ian's side. His eyes shot open and he rolled away the contact, quickly running into the wall. He gasped as the wounds on his back impacted with the wall and the iron collar half strangled him. He squinted up at his tormentor, a powerfully built soldier in an impressive uniform. Behind him was another soldier carrying a torch and a woman, a golden haired beauty who radiated all the warmth of a marble statue. She gazed coldly at him, examining him in minute detail.

"Is it considered right for a slave to sit in the presence of the Empress?" she asked.

The large soldier reached down and grabbed the chain of Ian's collar, hauling him to his feet. Ian tried to pry the soldier's fingers away from his throat as the hard iron bit sharply into his neck, but the ham sized fist was firm.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "What do you want?"

The woman raised an eye brow and the soldier back handed Ian hard across the face, sending him crashing to the ground. Half dazed, Ian fell to his hands and knees, his head spinning and his torso aching and his back twitching with pain.

"That's better," said the woman, "You should be on your knees, slave, when you are before the Empress."

_Oh great_, Ian thought, _just_ _to make things more complicated_. "What do you want?"

The soldier's fist slammed into his temple. Ian very nearly passed out until a hand was wound into his hair and his head pulled back. He stared back at the Empress, trying to figure out which of the three blurry images he should focus on.

"Firstly, you do not speak to me unless invited," she said, "The consequences of which have been amply demonstrated. Your wife, I must say, has better manners than you do. If she _is_ your wife."

A thousand questions sprang to Ian's lips, but the fist in his hair tightened and he clamped his mouth shut. He felt blood from the reopened wound on his head trickling down the side of his face.

"I am told you are from Britannia," the Empress said, still studying him. "What is your name, slave? You may speak."

"Ian, your majesty," Ian said, fighting hard to keep a civil tongue in his head.

"An improvement. I have seen all I wish to see."

Ian was released. He slumped forward until his spinning head touched the cold floor. He passed a shaking hand across his burning brow and swallowed against the dryness in his throat. When he looked up again the Empress and the soldiers were gone and the cellar was in darkness. He sat down, drew up his legs up and rested his forehead on his knees until the dizziness had passed. What had that been all about?


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11- Poppaea's plots**

Poppaea swept back to her chamber. Night had fallen since her visit to the cellar and her husband was still with his ministers, plotting and planning.

So that was the British slave that everything seemed to hinge upon. He was handsome in a ragged, battered way, very handsome and very attractive. Poppaea, however, was not a woman who let a passing fancy get in the way of her ambition. She wanted to remain empress and to do so she must oust her rival.

She paced back and forth, trying to think of how she could use the situation to her advantage. She paused briefly to look out one of the windows overlooking the city. Great sections of the city were still ablaze, giving the night sky a lurid orange glow and a sinister feeling. She turned abruptly away, that was her husband's business.

Her husband. He was so infatuated with that woman Barbara that he had been paying scant attention to her in the last few days, and that was enough to raise every hackle. Poppaea only wished that she knew what Barbara's intentions were.

Was she planning to take Nero and the crown for herself, or was she simply trying to get away from him? Her actions could be construed either way. Playing hard to get and thus inflaming Nero's interest, as Poppaea herself had done when they were courting, or trying to keep clear of his attentions, which had, over the years, become rather sickening.

How would Barbara react if her 'husband' disappeared, seemingly at Nero's hand? Would she be glad of being rid of him and jump into Nero's arms, or would she react with fury?

Poppaea hoped that she would react with fury and turn on Nero, whose temper was volatile at the best of times. Then Nero would dispose of her, probably in the arena, and Poppaea would be back in her rightful place of dominance.

The next few days, she decided, would determine her action. She sat down at her polished silver mirror and gazed at her reflection, but it wasn't her face she saw, it was the face of the British prisoner.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12- Visiting time.**

Barbara woke early the next morning, excited and apprehensive about seeing Ian. She wanted to see him desperately, but she feared what seeing what had been done to him and what they would say to each other. She splashed a little water on her face and rubbed at her eyes, she hadn't slept very much, her whirling mind had kept her awake.

Tavius knocked at the door and entered with her permission. "Come, Barbara, it's time for you to see Ian."

"Is he all right?" Barbara asked as she followed him along the lesser corridors of the palace.

"I would imagine so," Tavius said, "I haven't spoken to Anthea today. Be careful of how you conduct yourself, Caius will not be the only one observing you, although you may not see anyone else, and if Nero doesn't like the report he hears, Ian will be the one who suffers."

"I understand," Barbara said.

A man dressed in officers armour waited for them by a door. He was holding a strip of fabric in his hand.

"This is Caius Aurelias," Tavius said, "Captain of the palace guard. He will take you to your friend."

"I must blindfold you," Caius said, "Until we reach the place where your friend is being held."

Barbara nodded and turned her back so he could secure the blindfold in place. She understood that Nero didn't want her finding her way to Ian again on her own. Sly bastard. Caius took her by the hand and led her through the door.

The walk seemed to take for ever and Barbara was convinced that Caius was taking her on a circular route to confuse her. Finally they went down a flight of stairs and Barbara's blindfold was removed.

Two soldiers stood at the entrance to a cellar. They came to attention smartly as the captain approached. They could not, however, conceal the looks of appreciation they gave Barbara. At a gesture from Caius one of them took a torch from its sconce, opened the cellar door and led the way into the dark.

Barbara followed. The darkness seemed to crush in one her and the thought of someone, anyone, being imprisoned in such as place made her stomach churn. They rounded a stack of barrels and there was a loud jangle of chains as Ian sat up, squinting and shielding his eyes from the light.

It almost broke her heart to see him, chained hand and foot, collared and leashed like a dog in a cold, hard, dark stone prison. She went to his side and knelt beside him. His face sported two new bruises, stark against his pale skin and blood stained his forehead and temple, but he still managed to smile at her.

"Barbara, it's so good to see you," he said softly, touching her soft cheek gently, his chains rattling as he moved.

"Oh, Ian, I'm so sorry," Barbara whispered, her voice cracking, "This is all my fault."

"No, it isn't," Ian said, "You didn't know what would happen, you didn't plan it. I don't want you blaming yourself."

But it is my fault, she thought, if I hadn't accidentally hit you with that vase back at Assyssium, all this probably wouldn't have happened. She didn't voice her thoughts, they were torture enough for her and she couldn't face him with the truth, not yet. "It's hard," she said. "Let me look at your back."

"You don't want to see."

"I must."

Ian turned reluctantly, letting the blanket he was still holding drop. Barbara bit her lip. The welts were no longer bleeding, but they were still raw and angry. Tavius had mentioned he was being looked after and there was something shiny on them. Ian turned back when he heard a half-stifled sob from Barbara.

"I'm all right, Barbara," he said, trying to reassure her. "Can you get a message to the Doctor?" he whispered.

"Tavius has sent a messenger," Barbara replied, her voice barely louder than a breath. She leaned her forehead against his as they embraced clumsily. She jerked away, "Ian, you're so hot, are you sick?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, "It's nothing."

"If you are sick you must tell me," Barbara insisted, the thought that he might be ill frightened her badly. Roman medicine was pretty good by the standard of the ancient world, but a slave would hardly warrant the best care.

"Like I said, it's nothing," he repeated. "Don't worry about me, it might not be the most luxurious of accommodation, but at least I'm getting plenty of rest and the guards pretty much leave me alone." He tried to smile to reassure her, but it came out a bit wobbly.

"That's long enough," Caius said and took Barbara's arm. "You can return again in two days, providing the Emperor doesn't change his mind."

Ian nodded to let her know he had heard her as she rose. "Take care," he said, "I'll see you again soon."

Caius led Barbara out of the cellar, his grip on her arm tight. When he spoke to the two guards on duty outside the cellar door his voice was tight with anger.

"What happened to the prisoner?" he demanded furiously. "Your orders were that he was not to be harmed except on Nero's orders, and those would have come through me."

"The Empress, Captain," one of them said, "She came last night, Claudius Cassius was with her. We couldn't refuse her."

"You let her abuse the prisoner, against Nero's command," Caius' voice was scathing, "And you didn't think to inform me?"

"It was late, Captain, we were going to report to you this morning," the guard said lamely.

"Enough. The Emperor will hear of this. Come lady, we must return to the palace."

Barbara found herself blindfolded once again and lead by the arm, but this time to trip was much shorter and she was soon delivered back into Tavius' care.

"I'm sorry, Lady, that your friend was hurt," Caius said, "You can be sure the Emperor will hear of it."

"I don't blame you, Captain," Barbara said, "I have come to know the Empress in the last few days."

"What happened?" Tavius asked as Caius stalked angrily down the corridor.

"Apparently the Empress visited Ian last night," Barbara said, "Ian had been beaten, probably by someone called Claudius Cassius."

"The Empress' body guard," Tavius said, "If the Empress has taken an interest in this affair you are both in very real danger."

"You did send a messenger to Assyssium didn't you?" The Doctor with his intelligence, his experience and his sheer low down cunning was the only way she could see out of their predicament.

"Yesterday. With luck he should set there some time early tomorrow. Meanwhile I'll see what can be done here," Tavius said.

"Thank you, Tavius," Barbara said, _I just hope that Ian will be all right_, she added to herself.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13- Angels and Demons**

Someone was shaking Ian's shoulder insistently. Ian moaned softly, it was hard to wake up, his head was spinning and he felt sick to the stomach. Every limb ached and the chains around his wrists and ankles felt as heavy as ships anchors, pinning him to the floor.

"Ian, wake up." It was Anthea's voice, and she was adamant. "You must wake up."

Ian tried to focus on her, but it was difficult. He felt so cold. Despite what he had said to Barbara, he was far from fine and he knew it. What he didn't know was what exactly was wrong with him. "Anthea," he croaked, his throat dry.

Anthea put an arm under his shoulder and lifted him enough to drink from the cup she held to his lips.

He drank thirstily, "What's wrong with me?" he asked, knowing, but fearing the answer.

"You have wound fever," Anthea said, "As I feared. What happened to you? You have new bruises since yesterday."

"The Empress took a dislike to me," he said, rubbing his unbruised temple. His head was spinning.

"I have never met anyone who lets himself be beaten as much as you," Anthea said.

"I don't _let_ myself be beaten up," Ian said. "Oh, my head hurts."

"Drink some more," Anthea urged him, supporting his shoulders.

Ian obeyed gladly. The cup she gave him contained a bitter potion sweetened with a little honey.

"Willow bark," Anthea said, "To help ease the pain. I'll leave the pitcher with you, drink as much as you want, we have to try to keep the fever at bay, and drinking plenty of water will help that. There's food here also, try to eat something. Let me see your back."

Ian turned over to stretch out on the mat, wincing a little as the half-healed welts pulled, and pillowed his head on his arms.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Anthea," he said to her, "You're under no obligation to take care of me, but you do."

"I choose to," Anthea said, "I don't like to see any living creature suffer when I can help."

"My own Florence Nightingale," he murmured.

Anthea cleaned the worst of the wounds, reapplied her ointment and drew a clean blanket over his shoulders. She didn't understand the reference, but took it as a compliment, whatever it meant. Ian was already half asleep and barely twitched at her ministration. She shook her head, that was not a good sign, he was already retreating from the world.

He slept, barely aware of her departure but for the sudden absence of the soft light he had come to associate with her, and as the darkness returned he was once more haunted by his doubts and fears turned into demons. They took monstrous forms; the galley master, Sevcheria, Nero and his soldiers were all there, larger than life and laughing at his pitiful attempts to escape them. He tried to fight them, but he could never quite reach them as they darted around him, plucking at him from all sides while somewhere, in the distance, he could hear the Doctor calling for him, his voice getting fainter and fainter, as though he was moving away. Ian tried to chase after him, but no matter how fast he ran, he never got any closer, instead the demons closed in once more and pulled him down into a dark pit.

He was only vaguely aware of light some hours later, and of a presence looming over him. Something nudged him gently in the side but he didn't have the strength to react and let out a low moan as delirium set it. The light left and the demons returned.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14- Nero's displeasure**

"Oh, my dove," Nero said wearily as Barbara appeared that afternoon, "My dove, I am weary unto death. Rub my back for me."

Barbara was surprised, she had been expecting to spend the day fighting off his attentions. She rounded his chain, flexed her fingers and started kneading his podgy shoulders. He almost melted under her touch, moaning with pleasure.

"My dove, my life is complicated," he said, Rome needs to rebuilt and all my ministers can do is argue, my wife thinks me unfaithful, and I like each day in fear of my life."

Barbara paused for a second, fighting down the urge to wrap her fingers around his neck and throttle him. She managed to suppress her desire and continued to massage his shoulders, digging her fingers in as deep as she could to work out her anger. She wondered if it was wise to mention Ian's new injuries. Throwing caution to the wind she dived in, hoping it would not lead in further reprisals, but he had to know she was watching.

"I visited my friend Ian this morning, as we agreed," she said mildly, "He had been hurt. Out agreement was that while I obeyed you he would not be harmed."

"Oh, that," Nero said sleepily, "That was Poppaea's doing, not mine. I have discussed the matter with mer."

"I expect you to hold up your end of the agreement, and that includes the Empress," Barbara said.

Nero tensed and Barbara realised she had gone too far. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around, twisting her arm until she fell to her knees before him with a cry of pain.

"Remember, my dove, you are still a slave, as is your precious friend," he said fiercely, "You both belong to me and I could have you in my bed and him put to death in an instant and no one would raise an eyebrow. I only keep him alive because it amuses me to have your willing cooperation. That could easily change." He released her wrist and she rubbed it, trying to ease out the pain.

"Please don't hurt him," she said, hating herself for pleading with the tyrant, "If you must punish someone, punish me."

I won't hurt him, not this time," Nero said, leaning back with a sleepy sigh, "But next time you question me, he will suffer for it, now leave me."

Barbara fled, struggling to hold back her tears of frustration and distress. She had to hold on, she had to stay strong.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

**Chapter 15- A life in the balance.**

The first light of the dawn following morning Barbara was pacing around her room. She hadn't slept at all, Nero's words had haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She could be taken to his bed, and Ian could be killed without anyone asking any questions or caring in the slightest. They were nothing, they were no one. The helplessness and frustration was unendurable.

What was worse that she would have to continue buttering up to the fat tyrant to save them both. Where was the Doctor? She needed him and fast.

The sun wasn't even completely up when Tavius came into her room. He looked tired and strained. "Barbara, you had better come with me," he said without preamble.

"Where? What's the matter?" Barbara asked. She looked down at her dress which was rumpled and far from fresh after a day and a night of worry and stress. "Do I need to get changed? Does Nero want me?"

"No, I'm going to take you to Ian, come quickly."

"To Ian?" Barbara's heart leapt for joy for a moment, then plummeted the next, "But I'm not allowed to see him until tomorrow."

"This is unofficial," Tavius said, leading her along the hallway. "Caius told me to bring you, Ian is very sick."

They practically ran down the hall until they reached the door where they had met Caius the day before. Caius was waiting for them.

"What has happened?" Barbara demanded as soon as she was in ear shot. "How sick is he?"

"He has wound fever, Lady," Caius said, "Whether he lives or not is in the gods' hands now."

He didn't bother with the blindfold, but took Barbara on a quick walk through one of the rear courtyards of the palace and down a flight of stairs to the same cellar she had visited the day before. She was escorted straight in and was surprised to find another woman already there, bathing Ian's pallid face.

The woman was of middle years, her dark hair gathered behind her head in a simple knot and wearing a plain gown. She looked up as Barbara approached.

"You much be Barbara," she said, "No wonder he cares so much about you, you are certainly very beautiful."

Barbara knelt by her side and touched Ian's hot face. He muttered something incoherently and turned away from her touch. She felt tears prick her eyes.

"You must be Anthea," she said. The woman nodded a confirmation. "Thank you for taking care of him."

"No one should be left to suffer alone," Anthea said, "He's been speaking of you and someone called 'Doctor'."

"A friend of ours," Barbara said as she touched the back of her hand to Ian's damp forehead to determine the depth of his fever.

"He seems afraid that this Doctor will leave without him."

"We both fear that. Tavius has sent a messenger to him."

"I hope he gets here in time," Anthea said.

Barbara grew suddenly angry. Her best friend and the man she had loved for so long was lying on a hard floor in a cold, dirty prison, chained like an animal, sick and dying. She grabbed the chain which ran from the wall to his collar and tore at it.

"Barbara, don't," Caius said, taking her wrists in his hands and pulling her away, "You'll hurt yourself."

Barbara wrenched her hands free. "Please, unchain him," she cried.

"I can't," Caius said, "I'm sorry, but I can't go against the Emperor's orders."

"For mercy's sake," Barbara pleaded. "Can't you see how sick he is? He's not going to escape, he's barely conscious."

She heard her name muttered and flew back to Ian's side, but he was delirious and gave no further sign that he was aware of her presence. She choked back the tears which threatened to spill from her eyes, she couldn't afford to get upset, she had to get angry, she had to get results, otherwise Ian would die and she would be lost. Adrift in time and space without her anchor. Ian had always been the fighter, the defender, at the forefront of any danger, ready to face down any danger. How could she live without him? She looked back up at Caius, whose resolve was wavering.

"Please. If you leave him down here in the cold, in the dark, chained like a wild beast he will die."

"Caius, please," Anthea added her voice.

"Very well," Caius said, "Nero only said he was to be closely confined and guarded, he didn't say where." He took a key from his belt and unlocked Ian's collar and the wrist cuffs, casting the chains aside with a great clatter. "The leg irons stay on," he said when Barbara was ready to protest. He called the two soldiers on duty and gave them their orders. "We'll take him to the barracks," he said, "There are rooms there secure enough. You two carry him, I'll take the lady back to the palace and meet you there."

The two soldiers used the straw mat and blanket as a stretcher and carried Ian's unconscious form out of the cold cellar. Anthea went with them while Caius took Barbara by the arm. Barbara felt her heart miss a beat as he was carried away from her again.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16- Philosophical Discussions

**Chapter 16- Philosophical Discussions**

"Come lady, you have already been away too long," Caius' voice broke through Barbara's daze.

Barbara jumped, she had been lost in thought. "Caius, can I see him tonight?" Barbara asked, sensing a softening in the soldier's hard shell.

"Not unless the Emperor allows it, and you will have to ask him yourself. This morning I could only bring you because the Emperor is never an early riser, and he wouldn't have missed you," Caius told her as led her back to the palace. "Don't worry about your friend, I will see that he is looked after."

"Thankyou, Caius, you have been very kind."

"Not all soldiers are cruel and violent," he said, "Most of us only want peace and security. Very few revel in war, even if it is a necessary evil."

"And yet you permit and even encourage blood sports like the gladiatorial games," Barbara retorted, remembering both the history she once taught what seemed like a lifetime ago, and the circumstances under which she and Ian had been reunited, albeit briefly, as she watched Ian fight for his life.

"I don't apologise for the evils of our society," Caius said, "It is an outlet for the violence which brews naturally in the human soul. It keeps the people happy and content."

"Bread and circuses," Barbara said bitterly. "Only the circuses are full of blood and death and the violence you say brew in the human soul is fed and grows. Feed the people on bread and circuses to make them happy and then they won't think for themselves, but follow blindly, ignoring the injustice all around them."

"Without order, without some people leading and others following Rome could not have been built, all the greatness, all the art, architecture, literature and advances we take for granted would not exist. You cannot deny the advantage of being part of the empire, even as far away as Britannia."

"Yes, Rome has brought peace and advancement to many places, but at what cost? How many people have died to make Rome great? How many have been enslaved and taken from their homes to build all the roads, cities, bridge and aqueducts you are so proud of?"

"I see you are engaged in a philosophical discussion," Tavius said mildly as they entered the palace, still arguing loudly. "I shouldn't let Nero hear you."

Barbara and Caius stopped their discussion dead. Caius saluted Barbara, "I will await you here at the same hour tomorrow, for your official visit," he said.

"I will come," Barbara said, come hell or high water, she added in the privacy of her own mind.

"What brought on such an impassioned discussion?" Tavius asked.

"Ian is very sick," Barbara said, "Caius has had him moved to the barracks. Tavius, I want to ask Nero's permissions to see him again, but I made him angry with he yesterday and I doubt he will allow it."

"I heard," Tavius said, "Nero's temper is volatile at the best of times. He has ordered you serve at his table today."

"What about Poppaea?" Barbara asked. "She won't be pleased to see me."

"Poppaea has left Rome for a few days, to get away from the smoke," Tavius said, "Neither you nor Ian will need fear her for a little while at least."

Barbara felt a surge of relief, that was one weight off her mind. "Now all I have to do if butter up to Nero. Tell me what I must do."

Barbara spent the rest of the day waiting on Nero hand and foot, using every opportunity to flirt with him and ease him into a good mood, even though it made her sick to her stomach to do so. That afternoon she spent an hour or more listening to him playing his lyre, while plying him with food and wine. She had to admit he was a talented musician, if somewhat temperamental. What she did not get was an opportunity to ask him for permission to see Ian again until late in the evening.

The moment she did Nero's good mood vanished. "I'm getting sick of hearing his name," Nero snarled, "He has been nothing but trouble, I should have had him killed as I first intended. No, you may not see him, not today, not tomorrow, and if you mention his name again in my hearing I shall he rid of him for good."

Barbara's heart, so hopeful for a reprieve, plummeted. She didn't dare bring up their agreement, but made her feelings known by walking away and leaving him without another word. Everything was falling apart and there was nothing she could do about it.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17- Kidnapped

**Chapter 17- Kidnapped.**

Ian fought his way past shadowy figures that clawed and snatched at him, trying to pull him this way and that. A Dalek loomed up in front of him, he dodged as it trundled towards him, its gun stick at the ready. He remembered only too well being shot and half paralysed by a Dalek.

An Aztec warrior rushed at him, waving a club and screaming war cries. Ian jumped out of the way only to land in a caveman's grip. He fought his way out, slamming his fist into the caveman's face as he wriggled free. A light shone in the distance and Ian ran for it as fast as he could. The galley master who had tormented him for five days struck out at him with a whip in one hand and a set of shackles in the other. He missed and Ian burst into the light.

He woke up with a spinning, pounding head. It took him a few moments to notice that his circumstances had changed dramatically. It was no longer dark or cold and the surface he was lying on was soft and warm. Also, and most wonderfully, the collar and chains around his wrists were gone and he was dressed in a clean tunic. Unfortunately the weight on his legs revealed that his ankles were still chained.

"Lie still, Ian," Anthea's voice seemed to echo in his head. "You still have a fever."

"Anthea, what happened? Where am I?"

"You're in the barracks," Anthea said, placing something cool and damp on his burning brow, "Barbara convinced the captain to move you somewhere better than the cellar."

"Barbara," Ian tried to get up, he had to find her, he had to reach her. He struggled with the blanket for a few seconds before he fell back, exhausted and shaking. Every small effort seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort. Anthea pressed him back down onto the bed and blotted the sweat off his forehead, waiting for him to stop shaking.

"She said that she would try to come back tonight, but I don't know if Nero will let her," Anthea said.

"Knowing Nero, he'll probably loose his temper," Ian said and swallowed against his dry throat.

"She knows what she is doing," Anthea said, "If anyone can talk him around, I thank Barbara can. Drink this." The liquid was cool and soothed his sandpaper rough throat. She laid him down gently, "Everything is fine, you're safe, go back to sleep."

Ian didn't want to sleep, he wanted to move, he wanted escape, he wanted to take Barbara and run, but his body gave him little choice in the matter. As soon as his head touched the pillow his mind swam off into the warm darkness of a feverless sleep.

He was only vaguely aware, some hours later, of light and movement around him. Someone lifted him and he moaned aloud as his body, still stiff and weak from both the illness and days of lying on a cold, hard floor was jerked around. Still only vaguely aware of the world around him, but aware that something was very wrong, he struck out blindly with both fists. His fist impacted with something which grunted and swore. He managed to pull his eyes into focus long enough to see Cassius Claudius wiping blood off his split lip before his ham sized fist crashed into the side of his head and he fell back into the waiting darkness.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18- Conspiracy

**Chapter 18- Conspiracy. **

Barbara paced back on forth. She had had enough. The Doctor hadn't come to help, Ian was too sick to do anything constructive, and being around Nero was getting steadily more dangerous. It was time for her to take control. She had spent enough time being the damsel waiting for her knight to rescue her, now it was time to fight back.

Plan, plan, she needed a plan. What did she have to do? Find enough provisions to see them safely to Assysium, free Ian from his chains and find some way to get him to Assysium, he certainly wasn't going to able to walk there, get past Nero's soldiers, out of Rome and away. How difficult could that be in comparison to teaching history to a class of fifteen year olds?

First, she had to see to Nero, he would want his breakfast in a few minutes and her to serve it. Hopefully he would be in a reasonable mood.

"Barbara," Tavius ran her down as she came from serving Nero his breakfast. "Come with me." He took her by the arm and quickly led her into a private, hidden room where Caius Aurelius, Anthea and another soldier were waiting.

"What's happened?" Barbara asked.

"Ian has vanished," Anthea said, "I went to check on his this morning and his room was empty."

"There were signs of a struggle," Caius said, "He did not leave by himself."

Barbara froze, "He threatened to kill Ian," she said slowly, "Do you think he has finally carried out his threat?" She suddenly felt numb inside.

"I don't know," Tavius said, "There is no sign of his body."

"I don't think that this is Nero's work," Caius said, "If Nero had ordered his death I would have been informed and his disappearance would not have been so clandestine."

"I will ask the servants if they know anything," Anthea said, "And Marcus will make inquiries among the guard."

The as yet unnamed soldier nodded solemnly.

"Someone is sure to have seen something," Anthea added, "No matter what time or day or night."

"Meanwhile, we must act as though nothing has changed," Tavius added, "Nero is already in enough of temper and if we reveal that one of his prisoners has vanished, he could do anything."

"Are you proposing that when you find Ian you will simply throw his back into prison and wait for Nero to kill him?" Barbara asked, incredulous. "As soon as he tires of me, that's exactly what he would do."

"No, my child," Tavius said, "When we find out what has happened to him, both you and he must leave Rome, but until we have more information, things must continue as they are. There are other plans in place which need stability to mature."

"Caius, you are Captain of the Guard, a position of trust," Barbara said to him, "Why are you doing this?"

"Nero has become dangerously unbalanced," Caius said, "Yes, I serve the Emperor, but my first loyalty is to Rome and you've seen that chaos he had brought upon us. He must be brought down, for the sake of the Empire."

"Our last plan failed," Tavius said, "But we have not yet had time to establish a new one, until we do we must continue as normal."

Barbara glanced from one man to the other. Without intending to, she had stumbled into the middle of a conspiracy to murder.


	19. Chapter 19

Apologies for the delay, but I'm back home in Australia now and can concentrate on writing for awhile.

Also sorry for this chapter being so short, it's only a bridging chapter for the next, longer one.

A bit of history- Poppaea was initially Nero's mistress. He married her after he divorced and later had his first wife- Octavia- murdered. No wonder she doesn't want Nero taking another mistress, she knows what happens to his unwanted wives!

* * *

**Chapter 19**

Poppaea watched the farm cart trundle into the rear courtyard of her elegant villa, two of her loyal henchman at the reins.

"Well, did you get him?" she demanded.

Claudius jumped down from the driving board and went around to the back of the cart. He tossed side the cover and hauled a limp figure out of the straw. "We have him, my lady," he said, easily holding up the much slighter prisoner with one hand.

"What is wrong with him?" Poppaea asked, not deigning to descend the steps.

"I hit him, my Lady," Claudius replied.

Poppaea shook her head with a small amount of exasperation, Claudius always took the direct route, she preferred a more subtle approach, a simple tincture of poppy would have ensured the same depth of slumber. She did not descend the stairs to the dirty yard where all the actual work of the villa and estate went on, but examined the slave from her elevated position. He wore a clean, if somewhat battered tunic, his hands were bound behind his back and his feet were in chains. His complexion was pallid, she had heard that he had been suffering from wound fever, and he hung limply in her bodyguard's grip, but she still thought him incredibly handsome. "Take him inside," she ordered, "And fetch my physician to tend him."

"Where shall I put him, my lady?" Claudius asked.

"Somewhere secure, I don't want him slipping out of my grasp," Poppaea said and waved her hand in dismissal. She returned to the cool, clean part of the villa, passing through a small private garden and into the central atrium. Reclining on a long couch she selected a piece of sliced pear from the platter at her side and nibbled it and watched the bubbling fountain as she considered her position.

She had what she wanted, she had the handsome and unusual British slave, now all she had to do was oust Barbara from her position. She shuddered a little, remembering that she had clawed her way to her position of power, deposing Octavia to become Empress. She knew how tenuous her power was, and she was damned if she would let another take her place. She would see Barbara dead before the crown even came close to her brow.

* * *

Thanks to Mermaid who kept me on track with the story, there will be more coming at regular intervals from now on.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20- An Audience with Poppaea**

Ian woke in yet another unfamiliar place with yet another headache. He moaned as much in irritation as pain as he forced himself to examine his new surroundings. The room was not that different to the barracks room in which he had spent an unknown amount of time, but two major differences stood out. Firstly he was lying on a pile of straw on the floor, secondly there were boxes and bales against two walls. The window was almost the same, high and barred, and he was still chained, so that much was the same as before.

He climbed to his feet and tried to see out the window, but it was too high to reveal anything more than a patch of blue sky, and the boxes were too heavy for him to shift by himself in his still weakened state. _Great_, he thought, remembering the short struggle in the barracks room, _bad enough to be captured by a sadistic tyrant in the first place, now I appear to have been kidnapped as well. I wonder who it was this time?_ He was about to investigate the door when it opened and Claudius walked in, answering his question. Poppaea.

Ian backed up against the far wall, eying the big man warily, remembering the power of his fists. Behind Claudius were two men, both carrying short swords and spears.

"You will come with me," Claudius ordered, then walked out the door, expecting Ian to follow. When he did not, he gave a quiet order to one of the men who came in to the room, grabbed Ian by the collar of his tunic and dragged him out of the store room, his chains clattering.

Ian shrugged off the restraining hand and followed Claudius meekly down the hall and out into a busy courtyard and into the first sun he had properly seen for more than a week. He turned his face to the warm light and gave a small sigh of pleasure, not that he had long to enjoy it before the point of a spear jabbed insistently into the small of his back.

"Where are we going?" Ian asked.

"To see the Empress," Claudius said, then turned and studied Ian, looking him over from top to toe. "But you can't appear before her looking like that." He glanced around the courtyard and collared a servant who didn't look like they were doing very much. He exchanged a few quiet words with him and sent him on his way with a push. "Come," he said to Ian.

Ian followed, studying the courtyard as he did so. _Better to appear obedient now_, he thought, _and maybe get them to relax a little, than play up and be watched all the time_. The courtyard was not completely enclosed, there were gaps between the buildings leading, he presumed, to whatever was beyond. Open country, he imagined, since he couldn't see any other buildings above the roof tops and the only noise was from inside the courtyard. All he needed was the smallest opportunity and he would run.

Claudius stopped beside an animal's water trough and turned back to Ian. "Strip," he commanded.

"What?" Ian exclaimed, startled.

"Take off your tunic."

"No way!"

Claudius grunted, darted forward with a turn of speed surprising for his size, grabbed Ian by the tunic front and threw him bodily into the trough. Ian spluttered as he came up for air, gasping for a brief moment before Claudius shoved him back under the water again. He struggled and splashed, half drowning as he was held down, but couldn't break Claudius' iron grip.

Claudius ducked him three times before hauling him out of the trough and dropping him on his hands and knees on the hard cobbles beside the trough. Ian gasped and shook his head, clearing water from his eyes before glaring daggers at the large soldier. The servant had returned and was holding a dry tunic and a scrap of towel. Claudius stared straight back at him, his implacable gaze promising a painful and humiliating experience unless he did exactly what he was told.

With a silent, angry snarl Ian peeled his wet tunic off and grabbed the small towel, drying himself off as best he could, assisted by the hot sun, then pulled on the new tunic before too many more people could stop, stare and laugh at him.

Once he was as presentable as Claudius wished, he was escorted through a door set into a high wall, through a small courtyard garden and into the large, luxurious villa beyond. The walls of villa were pale terracotta, with carved window surrounds painted in the deeper shade, while the roof of the double storied building was tiled in the rich red ceramic. Inside was floored with white marble and intricate mosaics of coloured tiles, with alabaster columns and frescos painted on the walls. Ian's chains grated on the tiles, the sound echoing back off the hard walls, as he was led into the atrium, the inner courtyard, open to the sky but surrounded on all sides deep walkways with balconies over them.

Poppaea was waiting for them, lounging in elegant luxury on a long couch with several hand maidens attending her every need. Claudius stopped Ian in front of her, the shallow pool in the middle of the atrium between them. Poppaea studied him, an amused smile on her cold face.

"Do you remember who I am?" she asked.

"Of course," Ian said, "You are Poppaea, Empress of Rome."

"You have some intelligence, but not much, otherwise you would be on your knees before me."

Claudius kicked Ian in the back of the knee, his leg buckled and in an instant be was kneeling before her, wincing with pain.

"Better," Poppaea said. "I am told you are quite recovered from you fever, and since you are once again in your right mind, I have an offer for you."

Ian said nothing, but eyed her suspiciously.

"You are a slave, your life is worth only what someone would pay for it," Poppaea started, "You have no rights, the only privileges you have are what your master allows you. If you run away, you can be hunted down and killed like an animal, but that doesn't mean that you can't have some luxuries." She leaned forward, "I am told you are a skilled fighter, that you escaped from a galley and then again from the gladiatorial school, and that you almost managed to sneak in to the palace. With a little training you could hone your skills and become formidable indeed. So, I offer you this. Pledge your loyalty to me, do my bidding, become my assassin, and you will never want for anything again." Her words were soft and seductive and in her eyes there was an invitation, he wanted her, he could have her.

Ian felt suddenly cold. In all the time he had travelled with the Doctor he had learned many things, how to fight, how to survive, how to blend in to a crowd. He had never considered that those skills could be used for evil, to kill and make a profit from killing. Yes, he had killed, but only ever in self defence or the defence of others. The thought of taking another life coldly and mercilessly made him feel sick to the stomach. He shook his head, he would not, he could not, become what Poppaea asked him and still live with himself. He looked up, straight into her eyes and said simply, "Your Highness, I would rather die than do what you demand."

Poppaea leaned back. "You are a fool," she snarled, "You turn down the chance to have everything you could ever dream of."

"You could not give me what I dream of," Ian spat back at her, "You couldn't possess it, not even with all the wealth of Rome, no one in this time could."

Claudius smacked Ian across the back of the head. "Highness, should I have him flogged for his insolence?" he asked.

Poppaea was silent for a moment, considering. "No. Even if he won't give me what I want, I still have use for him. Take him out, see what his skills are, prepare him for my entertainment."

Claudius grabbed Ian by the collar and hauled him to his feet again, shoving him back the way they came. Ian limped a little as his abused leg protested and wondered what sort of entertainments Poppaea had in mind.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21.**

Barbara knelt at Nero's feet, watching him carefully as he chewed his way through a bunch of grapes and listened to the latest report on the burning of Rome.

"Seven districts are still ablaze, majesty," one man reported, "Several others are badly damaged but the fires are contained."

"How sad," Nero said with a complete lack of sincerity, "We shall have to rebuild those districts, and the others may very well be so damaged that they will have to be pulled down and rebuilt as well. Is there any indication of how the fires started?"

_Hypocrite_! Barbara thought silently, _how can you sit there and make disingenuous, contrite comments when you know full well how the fires started_. She watched carefully and noted the face of the speaker as he reported. He knew full well how the fires were started, but he had to fulfil protocol and play innocent.

"I do not know for certain, your majesty, but there are reports that some members of the sect who follow the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth were involved."

"Really?" Nero purred like a cat that had just been given the keys to the dairy, "The Christians? How utterly frightful, we must do something about that." He reached down for his cup and Barbara made sure it was both full and where his hand would come in easy contact with it. He grasped it and lifted it without taking his eyes off the messenger. "I want you to keep a close eye on our Christian friends, report on their movement as soon as you can. You may go."

The messenger left and Barbara rose to fetch the fruit platter. Nero caught her wrist and pulled her close, wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Such happenings," he sighed, leaning his head against her hip, "It's perfectly dreadful. Rub my shoulders, my dear."

Barbara did as he asked, wishing that she could wrap her fingers around his podgy neck and squeeze the life out. Instead she dug her fingers in hard enough to bruise most people. Nero only sighed with pleasure.

A few minutes later he took her hand again and drew her around to the front. "I will go for my bath now. I expect you to serve me at table tonight, and maybe you will see to my comfort this evening, hmm?" He smiled lasciviously, probably in a way he thought was attractive.

"My lord, I will see to your comfort, but no more than that," Barbara said, fishing for any information about Ian. Did he know he was gone? Had Nero made Ian vanish? Did he know she knew he was gone? There were so many questions and no answers and she was getting tired of dancing around him.

"Well, I must be grateful for what I have, then," he said playfully, his mood light. "I will see you this evening. Don't be late!"

Barbara bowed and left in a slow, stately walk. Once she was beyond his sight she ran for the poisoners old den, where she had arranged to meet Tavius. She had been gob smacked by what they had told her. She knew from her own studies in history that Nero had been forced, by the senate, to commit suicide, but that wouldn't be for a few years yet, so any plan that these would-be assassins came up with was doomed to fail. The last thing that she wanted was to become involved with any of these hopeless attempts.

"Nero is well guarded and very wary," she had said, trying to dissuade these men from their course. She also knew from her studies that within the next year or two Nero would start seeing conspiracies everywhere and many who were close to the throne would die at his instigation, "It would be very difficult to get anyone close enough."

"I thought for a time that we had succeeded," Tavius said, "But our agent failed and now he has vanished."

"Your agent?" Barbara asked, "I saw no evidence of an assassin in the palace."

"Hmm," Tavius agreed, "He did seem surprisingly reluctant to carry out his task, despite ample opportunity. But we are getting away from the issue of you and Ian."

"Where do you think he might have been taken?" Barbara asked, "And by whom?"

"We shall find out soon enough," Caius said, "For now, you must stay close to Nero, learn what you can and be ever wary of his moods."

"That I certainly shall be," Barbara agreed.

Now she was to meet them again and see if they had any news for her. Tavius was there alone when she arrived.

"How is Nero today?"

"Happy," Barbara said, "He is busy planning his new city even before the fires have been put out. He loves every moment of the chaos he has caused. He is trying to blame the Christians for the fire, too."

"I fear his madness is spreading, we shall have to act soon before he destroys us all. Barbara," Tavius said seriously, stepping close and lowering his voice, "You are close to Nero, he trusts you."

"He only trusts me because he has, or at least had, Ian." She didn't like the way this conversation was going.

"He takes his cup from you and only you, after it has been tasted, of course. You are in a unique position."

"Tavius, I know where this is leading, and I'm sorry, but I cannot help you. I think I know what you want of ask of me, and the answer has to be no."

"What do you think I am asking of you?"

"You want me to poison Nero for you," Barbara said, wondering if she had just signed her own death warrant. How would Tavius react to her refusal? She couldn't help herself, she had to try to tamper with history, otherwise her friends, people she had come to care about, would die and it would be her fault. "I beg you, Tavius, don't try to kill Nero, not yet. He is dangerous and paranoid and only going to get worse. If you try to kill him he will find and you will pay the price. Wait a little while, the people, the senate will tire of his soon enough, and you have seen what becomes of emperors the senate no long considers useful."

"My dear girl, have you seen how the city burns? People are dying in the streets because of his madness, he must be stopped. If he is not many more will die. If he is already trying to lay the blame for the fire on the Christians there will be a riot and hundreds more will die." Tavius said. "We have an opportunity here and now, and it would be foolish not to take it."

Barbara swallowed against the lump in her throat. Tavius was bent on destruction, either Nero's or his own, and there was little she could do to stop him. She had seen such zealous fervour before and it almost always ended badly. She wanted to blurt out what she knew of history, but she had learned how difficult it was to make even the slightest difference. "Then do not include me in your plans. All I want is to find Ian and find a way home, I don't want to become mixed up in politics."

Tavius nodded, "I understand. I wish I could persuade you otherwise, but I have learned over the years not to try to change the mind of a determined lady. Does he know Ian is gone?"

"If he does he isn't letting on. If he does know he is a better actor than I would give him credit for, he is acting as though nothing is different. He invited me into his bed tonight and I rebuffed, but he didn't try to force me. If he knows he no longer has a hold over me why is he playing so cool? I would have thought he would bluster and bellow rather than try charm."

"We have tried very hard to keep Ian's disappearance a secret until we know more. We still don't know if someone took him, or Nero had him killed."

Barbara sat down abruptly. She had tried not to think of that possibility. The implications were more complex than she wanted to contemplate. "I pray to God that's not true."

"So do I, my child, so do I."

Any further conversation was interrupted by Caius, Marcus and Anthea stepping into the room. Barbara and Tavius stood up to receive them.

"A farm cart left around midnight," Anthea reported.

"The guard on duty said he was replaced at midnight, as expected," Marcus added, "But he didn't know his replacement."

"There was no guard on the door this morning," Caius said, "That must have been when they took him."

"Where did the cart go?" Barbara asked.

"No one seems to know," Anthea said, "Supply carts come and go all the time."

"Surely there must be quartermaster or someone who keeps track of them."

"Late at night the quartermaster is in his bed and the job falls to one of his assistants, and they have been known to be lax in the duties."

"Then how do we find him?" Barbara asked.

"Intuition, my dear girl," a new voice was added to the conversation, "Intuition."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22- The Doctor Takes Charge.**

"Doctor!" Barbara cried in surprise and delight.

"Maximus Petullian?" Tavius exclaimed at the same time. "What are you doing back in Rome?"

The Doctor untangled himself from Barbara's embrace. "I was on the road to Assysium when this young fellow stopped me." He drew a stocky, shaggy man out of the shadows, "With news that my friends Ian and Barbara had got themselves into trouble, so I came back to see what I would do to resolve the problem."

"But you are from Corinth, how do you know two Britons?" Tavius asked.

"I am not from Corinth and I am not Maximus Petullian," the Doctor explained, quite oblivious to the two soldiers who had both drawn their swords at his entry. "I stumbled upon his body on my way to Rome and was mistaken for him. I simply played along to see what would happen."

Tavius went white as he realised how easily he could have been betrayed. "You are either incredibly lucky," he said, "or brash enough to pull off such a trick."

"A bit of both, I would say. Now, Barbara, tell me what has happened."

Barbara quickly related all she knew and the Doctor's face grew more and more troubled. "Where's Vicky?" she asked when she had finished her tale.

"Hmm?"

"Vicky, where is she?"

"Oh, I sent her back to the villa with strict instructions to wait there, just in case you made it back without me," the Doctor said. "Now, what we have to do is find out where that farm cart went, then I believe we will find Ian. Who has an interest in taking him?"

"Sevcheria, the slave master may have wanted him back," Delos said, hesitating in the presence of so many heavily armed people. "He wasn't happy when we escaped him."

"Nero may have disposed of him without going through me," Caius said, "Though I can't think why."

"The Empress visited him briefly a couple of days ago," Marcus added, "But she is not in Rome at the moment."

"Thank heaven," Barbara murmured under her breath. Tavius must have heard her as he looked at her sharply, speculation in his eyes.

"Well, we mustn't discount her. Now," the Doctor said briskly, rubbing his hands together. "Nero mustn't see me so I will stay here, Barbara, you must continue with Nero, no, don't argue with me, dear girl," he said as Barbara started to protest. "We must maintain appearances. Your task will be to find out if Nero has anything to do with it. Caius, you go to Sevcheria and see what you can find out. Marcus, try to track down that cart, it's the only lead we have, and ask around, see if anyone saw anything. Tavius, see what you can find out about Poppaea. Anthea, keep your ears open among the servants, ask a few questions. In the mean time, I will require detailed maps of Rome and the surrounding countryside. We will find him, my friends, we will find him."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23- In Training**

Ian came very close to turning and hitting the soldier who shoved him out of the villa, through the main compound and into an enclosed yard, he was getting fed up with people pushing him around. With a tremendous force of will he clamped down on his frustration and fury and examined his new surrounds.

The yard was surrounded by a high wall. Half the yard was taken up with large sealed pottery jars, the building behind them smelt like fermenting grapes. There were only two doors, one into the larger compound, the other into what must have been the winery. It was as secure a place as any he had been yet, especially with several soldiers standing in the shade and watching Ian curiously. One of them came forward with a hammer and chisel and quickly struck off the chains around Ian's ankles. It was a blessed relief to get rid of the dragging weight and for a moment he felt like he was going to drift away on the warm breeze which wafted across the yard bringing delicious odours from the bakehouse close by and reminding Ian that he hadn't eaten for more than a full day.

Claudius turned to face him. "The Empress is particular about her entertainments." He dropped a wooden sword, a gladius, on the ground in front of Ian. "Pick it up."

Ian picked up the gladius. His head spun for a moment as he straightened, a combination, he was sure, of the tail end of the fever and lack of food. He regained his footing and tested the weight and balance of the sword in his hand, swinging it once or twice. If only it were real, if only he could use it to escape.

"You have handled a blade before," Claudius observed.

"Once or twice," Ian admitted.

"Show me your skills," Claudius said, and swung at his head.

Ian raised his sword to block it, knowing instantly that Claudius had pulled the blow and swung slow. Claudius raised an eyebrow as he stepped back, lowering his sword.

"You're fast," he commented, and stepped in to a fast, stabbing lunge.

Ian parried, pushing the sword aside and countering with a blow he learned from the Aztecs. Claudius blocked and returned with an upper cut. The pair continued to trade strikes, both growing more confident and swinging harder and faster until Claudius stopped playing and sent Ian crashing to the ground, his sword spinning off across the yard. He placed his blade against Ian's neck.

"Good, but not good enough." He stepped back, "Get your sword and try again."

Ian rose warily, he had fallen hard and his left shoulder hurt. He kept a careful eye on Claudius as he retrieved his sword and, as he bent down to get it, picked up a few pebbles, just in case.

This time Claudius drilled him in a series of blows, blocks and counter strikes, running him through each sequence until he was satisfied, then demonstrating how to use them in combat, slowly at first then at full speed. The first time at full speed Ian faltered half way through and got a hard whack on the side with the flat of Claudius' blade. It hit right where he still had half healed bruises and it hurt. He staggered back, clutching his side.

"Concentrate," Claudius remonstrated, "Again."

They ran through the drill at full speed three more times, by which time Ian was shaking with fatigue and ready to drop, still weak from the fever which had almost claimed his life. Claudius called a halt.

"We will continue this afternoon," he said, and held out his hand, "The sword."

Ian had a brief thought of attacking while Claudius' guard was down, but he was too tired and passed over the gladius, hilt first.

Claudius signalled two of the guards who stood at the edge of the yard. They escorted Ian into the main compound, where the actual work went on, and chained him by the ankle to one of the trees then left him.

Ian sank to the ground in the shade and leaned against the tree, closing his eyes and willing himself to rest. His body relaxed, but his mind was whirling. What were the chances of the Doctor finding him? Was he even looking? The thought that he could be stuck in ancient Rome terrified him, even more because he no longer than Barbara for comfort and company. He wondered if she was all right.

Someone nudged his foot.

Ian opened his eyes and looked up. A man was standing over him, holding a plate and cut. He didn't look in the least bit friendly as he put the wooden vessels on the ground and stalked away as if offended that he had even had to bother. No possible ally there.

Ian picked up his meagre lunch and grimaced, the meals Anthea had brought him had been far more generous. However he was more interested in the water and there was reasonable amount of that. He drank eagerly, he was dehydrated and had a niggling headache.

As the day wore on he found himself sharing the shade of his tree with two dogs, one of whom came to investigate him. Ian held out a tentative hand towards it. It sniffed then gave his fingers a quick lick. Ian smiled and patted it, stroking its head and scratching its ears. The dog went floppy with delight and sprawled next to him to doze away the heat of the day. Ian chuckled. The friendship of a dog was hardly earth shattering, but it was company.

The sun had descended and Ian had shifted twice to stay in the shade when the same two guards came to fetch him. He had managed to snatch an hour or so of sleep and was feeling a least a little refreshed. They took him to the same yard as the morning where Claudius was waiting with a sword and another armed man. Ian picked up the sword.

"This mornings drill," Claudius commanded, "Begin."

The armed man attached Ian who immediately blocked and countered, running through the drill at top speed and without flaw, until his opponent cheated. Ian found himself with the sword point half an inch from his stomach.

"In the arena there are no rules," Claudius said, "Knowing the drill is a good start but you must always be on your guard against the unexpected blow."

Claudius worked them for an hour and more, increasing the difficulty of the manoeuvres as Ian's skill grew and he no longer had to think about each move but used them instinctively. Towards the end of the training session he was starting to make stupid mistakes as exhaustion took hold. Claudius called a halt and sent Ian back to his cell where he was once more chained by the ankle and left to fall into a dreamless sleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24- Developments**

Marcus glanced quickly up and down the hallway and then slipped into the hidden poisoners den. The Doctor was there pouring over a map, it was early evening and there was no one else with him. Marcus waited for the Doctor to notice him and, while he waited, pondered the situation. The old man was a mystery of the highest degree and, he felt, a dangerous one. There was enough intrigue in the palace without adding three complete strangers to the mix and the sooner they were gone, the better it would be for them all.

"Ah, Marcus, isn't it?" the Doctor said, looking up at him. "Have you any news?"

"Yes, my Lord," Marcus answered, he wasn't sure that the old man's title was, so he fell back on his usual form of address. "An unknown cart was seen leaving the palace grounds some time after midnight. I was told that it was almost empty and headed toward when it turned out of the gate."

"Good, good," the Doctor said, "Was there anything else odd about it?"

"The man who saw it said that there were two men on it, the driver and another and he said the other was a soldier, he was wearing a cloak, but armour could be seen underneath," Marcus reported.

"Well done, that must be the cart we're after," the Doctor said, "Ah, here's Tavius."

Tavius had entered quickly and crossed the room in three long strides, "Doctor, Poppaea has gone to her villa in the northern hills," Tavius said, "to get away from the smoke and chaos of the fires, at least, that was what she said."

"Ah, now we are getting somewhere, our young friend here was told of a cart that left after midnight last night," the Doctor said, "And turned to the north. I think that we have our destination. See if you can find Ciaus and Barbara, it is time to get moving."

Tavius nodded and left again.

"What about Sevcheria?" Marcus asked.

"I think that that's a dead end," the Doctor said, "but I would like to have that confirmed. Do you know where Poppaea's villa in the northern hills?"

Marcus looked at the map, "It's one of these four," he said, pointing to the four villas in the area, "But I don't know which one."

"Well, at least we only have four to search. Now, to other issues, we'll need a way to get out of the palace."


	25. Chapter 25

Apologies for any gross imagery that this chapter inspires.

**Chapter 25- Barbara's Revenge**

Barbara carried a flagon of wine and two cups into Nero's chambers. She had practised the alluring look until she could hold it without either cracking up laughing, or letting her underlying feelings show through. She wore it now to hide the evil glee she felt underneath. She was finally going to get away from the fat old lecher, find Ian, and have her revenge into the bargain.

Her evening meeting with the Doctor and the rest of the conspirators had finally given her the hope she so desperately needed. They had an idea where Ian was, and they were going to go and find him at long last. She could have slipped away in the night, but she didn't want to sneak away without a parting shot at the Emperor. He had given her and her friends so much grief that she wanted payback.

The guards at the door watched her warily.

"I have been summoned," she told them, "Nero is waiting for me."

The two soldiers traded lascivious glances and snickered as they stood aside for her.

"Maybe when you finished with him, you could spend some time with us," one of them suggested.

"I don't think that the Emperor would really like to share, do you?" Barbara asked.

"I guess not," the soldier said. "Well, get on, girl."

Nero was lying on his bed, staring morosely at the ceiling. His eyes lit up when he saw her coming to him, wine in hand and a come hither look on her face.

"My dove," Nero crooned, "have you come to me at last?"

"I have, Imperial Majesty," she said, placing the tray carefully on a side table, "I realise now that I've been a fool, you have far more to offer me than Ian ever could," she noticed a brief flash of anger on his face, so continued quickly, sitting on the bed next to him and running a finger over his chest even while her skin crawled at the contact, "you have wealth, power, influence," she said as she moved her finger slowly up towards his neck, "You're a fine musician, you are intelligent, anyone should be able to see that your plans for rebuilding Rome are the only way into the future, and you are…" she couldn't bring herself to say handsome, it just wasn't possible, "Extraordinarily appealing."

Nero levered himself up onto his elbows. "You are ready to give yourself to me?" he asked eagerly, then narrowed his eyes, "And what of your husband?"

"Do what you will with him, he doesn't matter to me any more," she said, "You are everything a woman could want in a man."

"You won't care if I have him to be torn apart by wild animals?" Nero pressed.

Barbara shook her head while thinking what a ghastly man the Emperor was.

"Or crucified and left for the birds to pick at while he still lives?"

Barbara swallowed her revulsion, she had a job to do and she would see it done. "If that is what your majesty wishes."

Nero was off his couch in a moment and at the door of his chambers. "I don't wish to be disturbed by anyone!" he stated emphatically, "Not on any thing or anyone, or I will have your heads!" He slammed the door and locked it before turning back to the inner chamber and his bed. Barbara was waiting for him, reclining on his bed.

"Oh, my love, you are all the woman I could ever want, come to me!" Nero lunged at Barbara, she slipped easily from his grasp and scooted down to the end of the bed. She tickled his toe and Nero laughed with delight as he made another grab for her. This time she slid off the bed and went to the tray she had brought.

"My lord, before we consummate our love, let us drink to the Gods who sent me here," she said, quickly pouring the wine into the two goblets. She handed one to Nero and took the other herself, "To Juno, and to Venus." She raised the goblet and drank deeply.

Ever susceptible to the lure of wine, Nero copied her, draining the cup in one go. "Now, my love," Nero said, throwing the goblet aside and grabbed her around the waiste, "Come to my armsh, make the hippiesht man… who… livesh…"

Barbara eased the fat monarch down on his bed as he collapsed into her arms, nearly crushing her. She grinned evilly as she heard him start to snore. As much as she would have liked to do some damage where it really mattered, time for escape was what they really needed, but she couldn't resist a parting shot. She tore up a sheet into strips, tied his wrists to the bed head and turned back his robe, grimacing as she laid his bloated body bare then scratched two words into the polished wood above his head – NOTHING HAPPENED. It should be humiliation enough for the overbearing monarch.

Happy that she had done all she could, if not all she wished, she slipped out of the chambers by the servants door. At one of the side doors out of the palace, she met the Doctor, Delos, Caius and Tavius.

"Well?" the Doctor asked.

"He's going to wake up some time tomorrow wondering what on Earth happened," Barbara said gleefully. "Now, can we get out of here?"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 – The Second Offer**

Every muscle in Ian's body was protesting vehemently when the noise outside woke him up. Now was not the time to be learning to use a deadly weapon, his body told him, you can barely stand up without swaying for more than a few minutes at a time.

Ian sat up and told his body to leave him alone, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter and it could either help him survive or… He wasn't sure what the 'or' was, there weren't many other options open to him at the moment. He rolled off his passable bed of straw and went to the window to listen, hoping that noise indicated a disruption of some kind that he could use to his advantage, but it only appeared to be the ordinary noise of people at work. He dragged one of the sturdier looking boxes to the window and climbed up onto it, his ankle chain rattling. His room, for want of a better word, looked over the kitchen courtyard, so there wasn't much use trying to climb out, even if he wasn't chained to the wall.

He gazed out through the bars, staring at the blue sky above and the hills he could see beyond the villa walls. How long had it been since he had walked free under the sky? Two weeks? Three? His tracking of time had been thrown out by the long periods he had spent out of his head with fever or chained in the dark. He wanted out, he wanted to get away from these people more than anything else, away and back to Barbara.

The thought of Barbara was like a stab in the heart. He didn't know if she was still in Nero's clutches or not, whether he had finally forced himself on her or not, if she knew he had been kidnapped or not and what she was doing about it, assuming that she _could_ do anything. He wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her and tell her that he loved her and had loved her for years but hadn't been able to tell her.

The rattle of a key in the lock broke him out of his reverie and had him down off his perch in a moment and ready to face whoever came in, even as his shoulder and abdominal muscles swore at him for their ill use. The same surly servant who had brought him his meals the day before was there, glowering at him as he dropped the wooden bowl and ceramic cup on a bale and left again without a word.

"Thank you!" Ian called after him as the door was locked again. He wasn't a patch on Anthea, but food was food and he was hungry. He polished off the standard fare of bread, soft cheese and olives quickly and not before time as the door rattled open again.

The soldiers who came in this time were even less friendly than the surly servant, and one of them watched his warily as the other unlocked his ankle chain and motioned for him to follow them. As before, he followed them meekly enough, and kept a surreptitious eye on any escape route. Soon, he promised himself, he would make a break for it soon, and he would escape or die trying.

Poppaea leaned back on her couch, lounging in idol comfort in the delicious morning coolness of the impluvium, Claudius standing by her side. They were talking softly as Ian was brought in to meet her. He was forced onto his knees and remained there for several minutes, the two guards at his shoulders, before the Empress deigned to look at him. She looked him up and down, and Ian felt entirely uncomfortable, he hated being examined like a prize animal in a competition. What was she up to this time?

"I am told you have talents, slave," Poppaea said, "Claudius tells me that you have shown considerably improvements with a sword in only one day. Imagine what you could be in a few months." She was not exactly talking to Ian, more musing on a subject that had caught her interests, so he didn't answer. She turned her sharp gaze on him. "You are a Briton are you not?"

"Yes, my lady," Ian answered.

"How did you come to be here, in Rome?"

Ian paused and thought hard for a moment, he could hardly tell her the complete truth. "I was travelling with my wife, Barbara, we were kidnapped on the road. She was brought to Rome, I was sold to a galley master who needed new slaves."

"And from there to the gladiators school," Poppaea filled in what she already knew of him. "How did you escape?"

"From the school?" Ian asked.

"From the galley. It is rare that slaves escape from that fate."

"There was a storm, the ship went down and I was able to swim to shore," he was careful not to mention Delos, there was an outside chance that his friend was still alive and free. "I came to Rome looking for Barbara, but was caught by the slave master who had kidnapped us in the first place."

"And he gave to Nero as a play thing, then you escaped again," Poppaea was enjoying the story immensely, her eyes gleaming as the tale unfolded. "First a traveller, then a galley slave, then a gladiator. You have led an interesting life. How did you come to be Nero's prisoner?"

"After I escaped from the school I went to the palace to find Barbara, I was caught trying to sneak in."

"That was foolish," Poppaea chided, "You should have left her."

"I couldn't do that," Ian protested, "I love her." There, he had finally come out and said it, but not the woman he had intended.

"Love," Poppaea scoffed, "All love does is get in the way of ambition."

"I only have one ambition and that is to get home," Ian said, _eventually_, he added in the privacy of his own mind.

"You wife, does she share your ambition or does she long for something more?"

"What do you mean?" Ian asked.

"Does she long to be Empress of Rome?"

"Barbara?" Ian laughed out loud, "Empress of Rome?"

"Maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do." She sat bolt up right and banged her fist on the table, her amusement giving way to anger in a flash. "She threatens my power, I will not surrender my crown."

"My lady, the last thing in this whole world Barbara would want is to be married to Nero," Ian said, taking a step back from her radiant fury. Poppaea was as dangerous as a snake, and just as quick to bite when she felt threatened. "I can promise you, she has no desire to be Empress. Just let us go, we'll leave and never return." He hated pleading, but he it was an avenue he couldn't discount, not while he was a prisoner here and Barbara was a prisoner in Rome.

"If it were that simple I might consider it," Poppaea said, "But Nero is infatuated with your wife and won't let her go without a struggle. If you run he will chase you and when he has you, you will die and I'm sure that you can imagine what he would do to her. He must tire of her first before he would even consider releasing her."

"Then why kidnap me?" Ian asked, "That's not going to change Nero's mind."

"No, but she will think that he had killed you, she will fight him, he will become angry with her and killer her, then I will secure in my position again without her blood on my hands."

Ian was staggered by her ruthlessness.

"I'm sorry, did I give the impression that I cared about her? I want her out of the way, and there is only one real way to achieve that."

"Barbara doesn't deserve that," Ian shouted.

"It became inevitable when she challenged me," Poppaea said coldly, "She made her choice, now she has to answer for it."

"She didn't choose this," Ian retorted angrily, "She hasn't challenged you, she doesn't want power, she's no threat to you."

Poppaea smiled, the smile of a cat that has a mouse trapped helplessly in a corner. "There is only one way that you can save her."

"What's that?" Ian asked.

"Surrender to me, pledge your allegiance to me. I may be able to get her out of the palace and send her back to Britannia if you agree to serve me without question."

"We've been over this, my Lady, I won't become your assassin," Ian said firmly.

"Not even to save the life of the lady you love?" Poppaea asked. "It's the only way."

Ian was tormented by indecision. Not knowing was the worst possible torture that she could inflict on him. On one hand Barbara was quite capable of looking after herself, and then there was always the Doctor, on the other, all he knew was that Barbara was as much a prisoner as he was, and that Poppaea could destroy her in an instant. If only he knew! He shook his head, no matter what happened, he knew that Barbara would want him to follow his conscience, and his conscience was telling him that if he became Poppaea's bought assassin, he would never be able to live with himself or look a respectable person in the eye again.

He clenched his fists at his sides and prayed to whatever god was listening that he was doing the right thing. "No, I won't kill in cold blood, not for you, not for anyone, not even the woman I love."

Poppaea sighed. "Foolish," she said, "But you were given the opportunity, I can't be more fare than that. Claudius, find an appropriate opponent, I want to see what this slave will do when he has no choice. Take him away."

The guards grabbed Ian by the soldiers and hauled him away.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27- Testing Times**

Ian paced around his cell, unable to rest despite his lingering weariness. Poppaea was up to something, and whatever it was, he was sure it didn't bode well for him. It was mid morning before Claudius came for him again, and they returned to the same courtyard where he had been worked the previous day.

Waiting for him was a gladius and the same partner who had thrashed him the day before. Ian watched warily.

"Let's see what you can remember from yesterday," Claudius said and Ian's opponent stepped in.

Blows were traded quickly and Ian was able to move without having to think too much, but in his head he kept up a running commentary to keep track of what the man was doing and where there were openings he could exploit. There was more variation in the sequences than he had been taught, but he was feeling fresh and far more alert and was able to anticipate and meet the challenge. After several minutes, which for Ian had stretched out like a life time, they two antagonists fell back for a moment and Claudius called a halt.

"Very good," he commented, "You're ready."

"Ready?" Ian asked, "Ready for what?"

"For the Empress's entertainment," Claudius said, an evil smile on his lips. "There is armour over there."

Beside the wall was a jerkin of stiffened leather. It wouldn't be much protected against a direct thrust, but glancing blows and slices might be reduced if not stopped all together. He put it and the wide leather arm guards on and wished mightily for either a full suit of armour, or at least a mail coat. Unfortunately, neither existed in Roman times.

There was time for a brief drink before Ian was taken, under guard, back into the Impluvium where Poppaea and several guests were lounging at ease on couches and chairs, waited on by servants with soldiers lining the walls.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28- Conflict**

Ian squared up to his opponent. The man was nervous and his sword was trembling, he attacked with a sudden clumsy rush. Ian stepped aside and parried the blow easily, but didn't take advantage of the opening provided, it was just too easy. He felt suddenly angry, he knew what Poppaea was trying to do, trying to force him to kill and gain power over him with that lost life. He would not kill for her, he could not, not even if it cost him his life, but that didn't mean that he couldn't defend himself.

His fury settled over him like a cold blanket, focussing his attention down into a single point until nothing else existed for him except his opponent. He felt something stir inside him, a dark beast which whispered in the shadows of his mind, _kill him, give in to your anger, kill him_. Ruthlessly he pushed the voice away even as he blocked, parried and danced around the frightened man facing him.

The man swiped wildly at Ian who ducked and brought the flat of his blade up, through the man's pitiful guard and smacking it against his ribs, bruising but not breaking skin or bone. The man's panicked gaze met Ian's and Ian swore in the privacy of his own mind. This man was not here to try to kill him, he was here to die. With a flick of his blade he disarmed the man and kicked his feet out from under him. As he fell, Ian stepped up and pressed the point of the gladius against the man's throat. His focus expanded again, now that the danger was passed, and he was once again aware of the spectators around him. They were clapping. In disgust he threw down his sword and stalked away from the fallen man.

Poppaea was staring intently at him. "Kill him," she said softly.

"No."

"He's nothing more than a thief," she said, "A worthless animal who deserves to die."

"Then let him face a fair trial, if you are capable of that, and be judged in a court of law, not like this. I won't kill for your entertainment."

Poppaea looked like she was winding up for an argument, but stopped herself when she noted her guests watching her with interest. "He thinks he knows the law," she said with a light laugh, "He thinks _we_ don't have the right to judge."

There was a smattering of laughter from around the room. Ian clenched his fists and focussed on that feeling instead of the desire to wipe the self satisfied smirks off the faces around him.

"Claudius, take the thief out and hang him," Poppaea instructed, "and find a more fitting opponent for our gladiator here."

"Your Highness, I think my man could challenge him," one of the guests called out as the thief was hauled away by two of Claudius' soldiers.

"Your body guard?" Poppaea asked, looking the large man standing behind her guest up and down with a speculative eye. "I hardly feel that would be a fair match."

"No, but one of my servants is a skilled swordsman," the noble patrician said, "I think he could provide us with more entertainment."

"Who is this man?" Poppaea asked, "Bring him forth."

The nobleman spoke briefly to the pretty boy who was waiting on him. The boy ran off quickly. "I have owned Demetrius since he was a child, he is a Greek from the island of Kérkira." (Footnote 1)

The man the boy came back with was lightly built and had a glint in his eye. There was a deep and abiding anger buried deep under the neutral expression. He would, Ian thought, be far more of a challenge that the thief had been.

"I will lay forth a challenge," the nobleman announced, "The man who wins here, to fight any man put forward by the noble assemblage, with your permission, my lady."

Poppaea nodded her agreement. "An admirable idea," she purred, carefully watching Ian's face as he blenched slightly, "I will look forward to the outcome. To make it more interesting I will lay a wager of 100 denarii on my Briton." (Footnote 2)

The bidding suddenly erupted as Ian and Demetrius examined each other. Both thought the other would be a tough opponent. Demetrius stepped up close to Ian. "I don't wish to hurt you," he said quietly.

"The feeling is mutual," Ian replied just as quietly.

"But I will kill you if I must."

"I know where I stand then."

"Begin!" Claudius shouted.

The two fighters stepped away from each other and saluted. Demetrius didn't rush in as the thief had, but started with a few exploratory jabs with his sword. Ian avoided these, dancing out of the way, but quickly realised the man was fast, very fast. When his attack came, it came swiftly and Ian had to move fast to avoid a sword between the ribs. He replied with an instinctive riposte and then stepped back again as they circled, regarding each other with new found respect. Fear triggered a surge of adrenaline through Ian's veins, this time he was fighting for his life, and he wasn't sure how well he would do.

Ian's focus tightened once again as he watched his opponents face and shoulders, not the blade he held expertly low and ready for either attack or defence. The beast inside was howling with delight as Ian took the offensive and feinted left before striking right. Demetrius blocked expertly, not falling for the ruse, and swung at Ian's head. Ian ducked and the swing whistled overhead, a bare inch from his scalp. They traded blows quickly, the blades clashing and their echoes ringing around the room and Ian soon found himself being forces backwards.

Demetrius was better than him, but he fought in recognizable sequences and cleanly, as though he had trained with a sword for pleasure, not to guard his life. Ian broke the pattern and tried some of the dirtier tricks he had learned while fighting for his life in other times and places. He didn't want to fight dirty, but at the moment he had little choice. Deep inside the beast was revelling in his decision. He brought his foot up, preparing to kick the man in the knee when Demetrius gave an evil grin. Ian swore at himself again, the man had been playing with him and he had left himself vulnerable. He felt a moment of rising panic and tried to regain his balance as quickly as he could.

Demetrius broke through his guard, spinning on one foot and slamming the other into Ian's stomach. Ian's breath whooshed from his body as he fell back. He slammed against a pillar instead of falling to the floor and ducked aside as Demetrius' sword smashed into the stone where his head had been. He back quickly into the middle of the Impluvium, taking the opportunity to regain his breath. His side ached where Demetrius had kicked him and he was running out of energy. He watched Demetrius carefully, his left arm wrapped around his aching torso as he gasped for air. Sweat running from his brow was getting into his eyes, but he couldn't afford to take his eyes off Demetrius for the moment to wipe away the sweat.

Demetrius closed in, advancing aggressively. Ian knew he couldn't last much longer so opted for attack. Every trick of sword, fist or foot he knew was met, although sometimes at the last minute, and once or twice a punch or a kick hit home, blood was soon running down Demetrius' arm from a shallow gash Ian had managed to inflict, matched by the itching trickle of blood Ian felt running along his ribs from a glancing blow he had barely felt. Despite the tactics, Ian soon faltered as fatigue set in and Demetrius charged at Ian's left flank, forcing him to block, then spun around and smashed the hilt of his sword into Ian's right temple. Ian fell, stunned.

Demetrius stepped in and grabbed Ian by the hair, hauling him to knees. He put his sword blade to Ian's throat and looked to Poppaea for instructions. Around them people were clapping and cheering and money was changing hands. Poppaea was leaning forward, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Let him live," someone shouted.

"He fought well," another called.

Ian tried to shake his head clear, but Demetrius leaned down and spoke quietly in his ear, "Pretend you're hurt, you may yet get a chance to escape."

Ian was surprised, but slumped in his grip, letting his head hang. While he did so he listened carefully to Poppaea, his life was in her hands, and it would take only two words for him to find his throat cut and gasping his last few seconds of life out on the polished marble floor.

"Your man has potential, your highness," Demetrius' master said, "My man was hard pressed to beat him. With a little more training and practise he will be a force to be reckoned with. Keep him alive for now."

Poppaea was silent for a few moments, weighing up the pros and cons of keeping her Britannic slave alive. On one hand he was trouble, always challenging her and her views and making her feel inadequate, one the other hand, he was a good fighter and in time could make her famous. On the other hand, she had to keep him secret from her husband, so she couldn't show him off to any one but her close friends. On the other hand, he was extremely attractive and she still harboured a hope that he would see reason and serve her as she wished to be served. Finally, she threw up her metaphorical hands. "Let him live," she said, "Take him away. Now, Auralias, is there a challenger for your man?"

Demetrius let Ian go and Ian theatrically collapsed to the floor. Two burly servants took him under the arms and hauled him bodily out of the villa, his feet trailing behind. He risked opening his eyes a little and watching what was going on around him. There were more people in the compound than usual, servants of Poppaea's guests. They would make excellent cover when he made a break for it. The servants dragged Ian to his cell and dropped him on the straw. What they didn't do was chain him to the wall. He moaned a couple of times for the look of it, and when they had shut the door, he rolled to his feet. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, the blow hadn't been a light one, and once he had regained his balance, padded quietly to the door and pressed his ear to the wood.

Aren't you proud, I resisted the urge to add a Gladiator like yell of "Are you not entertained!?"

Footnote 1: Kérkira is the Greek name for Corfu in modern times, I don't know what it was called during the Roman Empire.

Footnote 2: A denarius was a silver coin worth 16 asses (donkeys), so Poppaea was betting 1600 donkeys on Ian, well, she should be able to afford it.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29- Escape**

Delos ducked through the screen of vegetation into a hidden gully to where Barbara and the Doctor waited for him. He had scrubbed up well, with his hair trimmed and wearing a neat tunic he looked very much like some ones servant rather than a desperate escaped slave.

"Poppaea is there," he said after he caught his breath and taken a swig from the water bottle Barbara passed to him, "With a number of guests, so there are a lot of unknown faces around the villa at the moment."

"Any sign of Ian?" Barbara asked anxiously. It had been two full days since they had slipped out of Rome in search of Ian, and her anxiety was growing. They had already visited two villas on the list that Tavius had given them, but neither Poppaea nor Ian was in evidence at either.

"Yes, I caught a glimpse of him this morning," Delos said. He would have been happier if there wasn't bad news to come.

"Thank God!" Barbara exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know," Delos said seriously. "I heard from one of the servants that he was forced to fight one of the swordsmen that a guest brought with him, I had to leave before I got more news, otherwise I would have made people suspicious."

Barbara sat down heavily on a rock at the side of the gully. "What do you think his chances were?"

"Ian's a good fighter," Delos said, "He had me beaten once, when we fought before Nero, you were there, you should remember, it was only by accident that he fell."

"But that was you, his friend, this time he's up against a stranger who will have no compunction about killing him."

"Now, now, my dear," the Doctor soothed her, "There's not much we can do about that, all we can do is move forward with the plan and rescue him."

"If he still lives," Barbara said.

"I'm sure he will be fine, he's most intelligent, for a human. Delos, when do you think will be the best time for getting into the villa?" the Doctor asked Delos.

"As soon as we can get down there. I don't know if the Empresses guests are staying over night or leaving before night fall, but our best chance is while there are a lot of unknown people there. We should be able to slip in relatively unnoticed."

"Well, we had better get moving," the Doctor said and climbed stiffly to his feet, they had had to leave the wagon Tavius had provided for them behind and it had been a hard hike across the donkey tracks through the Roman hills. Barbara went to help him. The Doctor waved her away, too proud to let her know how stiff and sore he was. "Now, let us think, what would be the best pretext for us getting into the villa?"

"Poppaea mustn't see us," Barbara said, "If she does we'll all be in trouble."

"Poppaea mustn't see you, my dear," the Doctor said, "but Delos and I are in less danger."

"What about that stunt you pulled at the feast with Nero?" Barbara asked, "She'll think you are Maximus Petullian, Nero's friend. If she sees you she may think that you are there to spy for him."

"Or, if it becomes necessary, I can tell her that her fears about her husband have come to pass, that he has gone mad and driven me away and I seek her protection," the Doctor said, "She's a proud woman, and vain, but she is also intelligent, more so than that fat monarch down in Rome."

"Let's get going," Delos urged, "The longer we wait here the more likely it is that the crowd will leave and we won't have cover."

"Yes, I suppose so," the Doctor said. "We will find Chesterton as quickly as possible and get back to Assysium."

The crowd was still in evidence when they approached the villa. When they were challenged at the gate Barbara had to try very hard not to let her anxiety show. It was the Doctor, however, who through sheer cheek got them inside.

"I'm the Doctor," he announced to the soldier who challenged them, "I believe the Empress sent for me."

"Oh, you were quick," the soldier said, looking him up and down. The Doctor had changed his clothes and now looked like he could well be a country doctor, not particularly richly dressed, but neat and prosperous looking. What was more, he had two servants. "Who are these?" the soldier asked.

"My servant and my apprentice," the Doctor said, indicating first Delos and then Barbara.

The soldier eyed her appreciatively, "She's too pretty to be a mere apprentice," he said with a lewd chuckle.

The Doctor gave him a hard look, "I would see my patient now," he said coldly.

"Yes, sir," the man said sheepishly, withering under the stern, patriarchal gaze. "This way, please."

The soldier led them into the villa, through the kitchen yard and into the long building which flanked it. While they walked Barbara studied their surrounds and noticed, at the base of a tree, a chain with an empty cuff. She felt a cold knot in her stomach and wondered if Ian had been chained there, like an animal.

"What precisely is wrong with the patient?" the Doctor asked.

"He's a gladiator," the soldier said, "He was in a fight earlier and was hurt. The Empress wants him kept alive for now, she think he could be very valuable, so you'd better do your best."

The knot in Barbara's stomach grew colder and hard, there was only one person he could be talking about. Ian. How badly was he hurt? Was he on the verge of death?

The soldier lead them to a door and opened it. The room was half full of boxes and bales, but along one wall a man lay on a pile of straw. Only Delos' hand on her arm stopped Barbara from shoving the soldier out of the way and running to the prone man.

"Thankyou, you can go," the Doctor said.

"But the man is dangerous," the soldier said hesitantly.

"Not at the moment, and my servant is armed and knows how to use a sword."

Delos was, indeed, armed. He had stolen sword and sword belt and now laid his hand meaningfully on the hilt.

The soldier looked as though he was going to protest, thought better of it, and retreated. "I'll be down the end of the hall way," he said.

"Oh, very well," the Doctor said irritably.

They watched the soldier retreat and then turned back to Ian, who, to their surprise, had propped himself up on one elbow and was watching them with a mix of amusement and relief.

"I don't know how you came to be here, Doctor," he said, "But I am very, very glad to see you."

Barbara gave a small cry and threw herself into his arms. Ian gave a gasp of pain, but returned her hug willingly. Barbara broke away first and looked him up and down. There was a large bruise on the side of his face and he looked thin and very tired. She touched the bruise gently. Ian caught her hand in his and moved her fingers away from the throbbing spot.

"I'm glad to see you too, my boy," the Doctor said, "Now, are you hurt?"

"Just some bruises," Ian said, allowing Barbara to help him to his feet. He didn't want to let his friends know that he was in pain, he would just power through. "How do we get out of here?"

"There is a soldier down the end of he hallway," the Doctor said, "Delos, go and get his sword, Chesterton may need a weapon."

Ian raised an eye brow, it wasn't often that the Doctor advocated violence.

Delos nodded and slipped away. A few moments later there was a thud and clatter and he returned with an extra sword. He passed it gravely to Ian. Ian accepted it with the gravity.

The Doctor threw his cloak around Ian's shoulders, "Let's see how far we can get before we have to resort to violence," he said.

They were half way down the corridor when a man appeared in front of them. Delos drew his sword and readied his attack.

"I see my work has been half done for me," the man said.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30- I'm not a hero**

Ian grabbed Delos' arm as he came on guard, ready to attack or defend. "Delos, don't," He said, recognising Demetrius, "He's a friend. At least, I think he's a friend."

"I am," Demetrius said, "I was going to come and unlock your door, Ian, to give you a chance to escape, but I appear to be too late." He looked Ian up and down, "And it seems that you are not as badly hurt as I thought."

"Who are you?" the Doctor asked suspiciously.

"Demetrius," the other answered, "I am swordsman to Antonius Flavius."

"I fought Demetrius a few hours ago," Ian said, "He saved my life."

"And now, we must go," Demetrius said.

"You want to come with us?" the Doctor asked, "Do you know what will happen to you if you are recaptured?"

"I do, but I want to go home," Demetrius said, "I want to find my family and live free again."

"We'd best hurry," Delos said from the door where he had been keeping an eye on the crowd of servants in the yard, "It looks like people are getting ready to leave."

"Here, Ian, help me here," Demetrius said as he bent over the stricken guard. They quickly stripped the man of his tunic and rudimentary armour and Ian donned the disguise. He wouldn't pass close inspection, but the uniform would help the observer's eye to skip over the escaping prisoner.

The milling crowd of servants and guards provided perfect cover and the five of them slipped easily out of the villa. They left the stream of traffic as soon as they could and retreated to the relative safety of the hidden gully in the hills. The ground was rough, and both the Doctor and Ian were soon flagging.

"A moment," Ian said as he sagged forward, his hands on his knees and his breathing heavy.

"Are you all right, Ian?" Barbara asked, coming to his side.

"I will be," he said, smiling up at her. He was so glad to see her, to be with her, free and unfettered.

She touched his face gently, carefully avoiding the large bruise that discoloured his face, "I was afraid for you," she said softly, "Afraid I would never see you again."

"I felt the same," Ian said, straightening up and taking her hands. He was so glad to be with her once more, "I could bear anything but losing you. I wouldn't have minding staying here, in ancient Rome, if I could be with you."

"You say that now," Barbara said more seriously, "But this is not a good time for the like of you and me to live."

"You're probably right."

"Will you two keep moving," the Doctor said irritably as he came up behind them, leaning heavily on Delos' arm, "We're not safe yet."

Ian and Barbara shared a small smile and Barbara took his arm around her shoulders, helping him over the rough ground. Behind them, Demetrius took up the rear.

When they reached the gully and the rough camp they had made, Barbara eased Ian down onto blanket while Delos helped the Doctor sit. Delos and Demetrius quickly gathered wood and lit a small fire in a hidden hollow, providing much needed warmth, light and comfort as the day faded into night.

Barbara pushed Ian's tunic back off his shoulders and hissed at the mess she saw. His torso was one great mass of bruising and a shallow wound along his ribs was angry and red beneath the clotted blood. She doubted that he was strong enough to survive if the wounds became infected a second time. She worked as best she could with what she had available to clean and dress the wounds, but herbal preparations were not going to be enough if his body's natural defences were too badly depleted. She needed to get him back to the TARDIS and the advanced medicines with which it was stocked.

"How is he?" Delos asked as he handed her a cup of a tea made from the dried herbs they had brought with them from the palace, sweetened with honey. She sipped it gratefully, only wishing it was real tea, Prince of Wales, with a sugar and a slice of lemon. She could really use a cup of tea, or something stronger, like a gin and tonic, or a straight brandy.

"He's sleeping for now," she said, "But I'm afraid for him, he's been through so much recently, I don't know how he survived."

"He survived for you," Delos said, "All the time in the galley, and in the prison, he spoke most fondly of you. Your memory helped him survive, the hope that he would find you again."

"Well, here we are," Barbara said, "Now all we have to do is get home."

"Home," Delos echoed, glancing over at Demetrius, standing guard at the head of the gully, his form outlined by the moon and stars. "I want to go home, too," he said, "Back to Kérkira, and I promise you, they won't catch me again."

"How were you captured?" Barbara asked.

"Moorish slavers," Delos said, "I was out fishing by myself, which was foolish. They were on me before I could get back to shore. They sold me into the galleys. That was two years ago. I had pretty much given up hope of ever escaping, then Ian came along and gave me hope again."

Barbara looked down at her sleeping love, "He's good at that. He's never given up, no matter how hopeless the situation. Assysium is on the coast, you could take a ship from there."

"I intend to," Delos said, "I will make it back home no matter what."

The bright light of dawn woke Ian. For the first time in more than a week he awoke free and he revelled in the feeling. Barbara was curled up beside him, wrapped in her cloak and a spare blanket, while the Doctor and Demetrius lay where ever they could find a comfortable spot. Delos stood guard at the head of the gully, watching the misty landscape come to life with the new day.

Barbara stirred and woke and smiled with delight as she saw Ian awake. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like I've been run over by a truck," Ian said, "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I am really looking forward to getting back to the TARDIS."

"Like wise," Barbara said. She leaned forward to check Ian's injuries, but he grabbed her hand and held her, gazing into her face.

"I know what did for me," he said, "Back there in Rome. He didn't… do anything, did he?"

"No," Barbara said, shuddered at the memory of Nero's hands all over her, "I think he enjoyed the chase more than the capture. If he had wanted me in his bed he would have simply ordered me there, but he didn't. It was close, though."

"You didn't have to endure that for me."

"I did," Barbara said, "I had to because I love you and I didn't want to see you hurt, not if I could prevent it." She was never going to tell him how close it was, how close he came to his execution. "I would have gone to his bed if I had to, to save you. Do you think any less of me for it?"

Ian shook his head, "No, I don't, and I don't deserve you. Everything you've done for me… I love you so much."

"And I love you, I have done for years, but I could never say so."

"You have?" Ian asked, "Even at school?"

"Yes," Barbara said with a laugh, "Even at school. Who would have thought that the terribly proper Science Master would turn out to be such a hero?"

"I'm no hero," Ian denied.

"Yes, you are. You've battled Daleks, Aztecs, revolutionaries, cave men and all sorts of nasties. You've saved innocent people from harm, you have rescued damsels in distress," she fluttered her eye lashes at him, provoking a chuckle, "What other deeds must a man do to be called a hero?"

"Stop, you're embarrassing me," Ian said. "I don't feel like a hero, I just do what has to be done."

"My point exactly," Barbara murmured, "Now, isn't it traditional that the hero gets to kiss his lady fair?"

"Usually the hero rescues the lady fair, not the other way around," Ian said as their face drew closer and closer together, "But I'm not going to quibble at details."

Someone cleared their throat meaningfully behind them. Both Ian and Barbara turned like guilty children caught with their hands in the biscuit jar and saw the Doctor glaring at them. "This is not the time for that," he said gruffly.

The pair exchanged a look and laughed, then Barbara pecked him on the cheek, "To be continued," she whispered in his ear.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31- Poppaea's Fury**

Poppaea idly curled a lock of her hair around her finger as she watched the water in the fountain in front of her. It had been an entertaining day. She had enjoyed the company of her friends, watched some excellent fighting and had manipulated several senators into accepting her version of events over her husbands. They would declare him mad soon and then she would be Empress, ruler of the known world.

In the mean time, she could enjoy her handsome British slave. He would come around and give himself willingly to her, if not, she would extract her pleasure from him in other ways.

"Claudius," she said without raising her voice.

A second later Claudius was kneeling at her side. "My Lady?"

"Go and check on my pet," she said, "If he can walk, bring him to me."

"My Empress," Claudius said, bowing from the waist.

Poppaea watched him go. She had felt his hands on her body before, they were strong and capable, but lacking in the subtle touch she desired. She was sure that her slave was more skilled and she longed for him.

A few moments later he was back again, on one knee by her side. Poppaea was disappointed, she had hoped he would bring Ian back with him, he was usually so reliable.

"My Lady, he is gone," Claudius said.

"Gone?" Poppaea asked, then her hands cracked across Claudius' face, "What do you mean, gone!?"

Claudius rocked back a little under her wrath. "I found the soldier I had set to guard him stripped of his uniform, bound and locked in the room. I questioned the man on duty at the gate and I was told that a Doctor had arrived from the town to tend to the slave, accompanied by a tall, dark haired woman of exceptional beauty and a servant, but that he had not seen them leave again."

"Barbara," Poppaea grated through clenched teeth, "I want them found, I want them hunted down and crucified, all of them!" She ended with a shriek.

Claudius bowed again from the waste, rose and beat a hasty retreat, shouting orders as he left.

Poppaea picked up a precious plate made of rare and expensive glass from the table beside her and hurled it on the floor. It shattered into a dozen pieces. "I will kill them all," she swore quietly, vehemently, "I will crucify them one by one and Ian can watch, then he will suffer as no one has ever suffered before. He will beg for death long before I allow him to die. He will scream and plead and it will be music to my ears. By all mighty Jupiter, this I swear."


	32. Chapter 32

At long last, after many trials and tribulation, the end is here and Ian and Barbara can breathe a sigh of relief, at least until next time I get my hands on them!

Thankyou to all those dedicated readers who have followed Ian and Barbara on their adventures, I hope you're not too disappointed with the ending.

**Chapter 32- Home again**

Delos came running down the gully as they broke their fast with what little food they had remaining. "Soldiers," he said, "There are soldiers coming up the hills. We have to leave, now."

"How close are they?" the Doctor asked and gave a moan as he levered his stiff body upright.

"They are at the base of the hill, quite some distance away," Delos said as he started gathering up their gear. Demetrius helped him while checking that his sword was loose in its sheath.

"Are they heading straight for us?" Barbara asked.

"No, they're spread out, like they're searching."

"Poppaea," Ian said as he climbed to his feet. He felt as stiff as the Doctor and was not looking forward to becoming an old man and feeling like that every morning, "She's sent them out to look for us."

"No time to waste, we must leave now," the Doctor said. "Come, come."

The party moved off up the gully, deeper into the hills where the ground was rocky and they didn't leave many tracks. Delos lead and Demetrius took up the rear, using a branch to brush their trail as they walked. It wasn't perfect, but it did obscure the tracks a little.

The hike was merciless and more than once Ian wished that they could rest, but knowing could not risk any delay. As it was the soldiers were fresh and fitter than he was and he knew in the pit of his stomach that he was slowing the party down. Even the Doctor was handling the walk better than him.

He was on the verge of suggesting that he stay behind to slow the soldiers down and give the others a chance to escape when they emerged from the hills into a small, fertile valley."

"Ah, we're here at last," the Doctor said with a sigh of relief. "Not long now, my boy, and you can rest for a while."

"We can't stop," Ian insisted, "If they catch us you know what they'll do to us."

"Yes, yes," the Doctor said impatiently, "I said you could rest, I didn't say anything about stopping."

"Huh?" Ian asked with all the intelligence he could muster. He was exhausted and felt terrible. Every muscle and joint in his body ached and the long wound on his side throbbed in time to his heart.

"We have a cart," Barbara explained, moving beside him to support his as he staggered on his next step, "Down there at that farm. Tavius gave it to us. We can move a lot faster in that."

"Tavius has been a good friend," Ian commented, grateful for her support.

"I hope he's all right," Barbara said, "It isn't a good time for his type to be in Rome."

"What do you mean, his type?" Ian asked.

"Christian," Barbara replied, "He never came out and said it, but I saw his crucifix, that's why he helped us."

"Thank God for that," Ian said as a fervent prayer of thanks.

The cart was a small, covered farm cart and with a quick change of clothes turned them from fugitives into a farming family on the move. Ian was the only unusual member of the party with his bruises and obvious wounds, so the Doctor insisted he stay in the cart, out of sight with Demetrius while Delos drove. For once Ian didn't argue the point. The party set their sights on Assysium, sticking to the back roads and country lanes rather than the highways, moving quickly and leaving the soldiers far behind.

Ian spent most of the trip dozing on and off as his body fought off the last vestiges of illness and potential infection from the wound on his side. Barbara fretted over him, but the Doctor reassured her that he was doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances. None the less, she would be glad to get to the advanced facilities in the TARDIS.

Two days later they reached Assysium. Ian was much stronger, the rest helping him fight off the illnesses which plagued him, but both the Doctor and Barbara insisted he stay in the wagon instead of walking. Eventually he got sick of the jolting of an un-sprung wagon and told his friends in no uncertain terms that he would walk.

They skirted around the town and found the road which lead up to the villa on the hill.

"This is where I leave," Delos said as the wagon turned up the road, "Demetrius and I are going to take a ship back home, his village and mine aren't that far apart."

"Good luck, my friend," Ian said, grasping his arm at the elbow. Delos returned the warriors parting with solemn dignity.

"Will we ever meet again?" Delos asked.

"I doubt it," Ian said, "Take care of yourself, and don't go fishing solo again."

Delos laughed, "That's not a mistake I'm likely to make again."

Demetrius also clasped Ian's arm in parting. "Good luck," he said, "I hope you find your way back home as well."

"I hope so, one day," Ian said wistfully. He watched with a certain amount of regret as Delos and Demetrius left. Delos had saved his life more than once and he felt as though he hadn't adequately repaid him.

A small figure flew out of the villa as soon as they pulled up in the yard and threw herself into Barbara's arms.

"Oh, Barbara!" Vicky wailed, "Where have you been? What took you so long? What happened to you? Why did you leave me here all alone?" The last accusation was directed firmly at the Doctor.

Barbara soothed the hysterical girl, holding her a close embrace. "I'll tell you about it later," she promised. "Have you been all right here by yourself?"

"I've been fine, no one came up here, I've been rattling around waiting for you. I didn't know how long you were going to be, or even if you were going to get back!" Vicky said, ready to burst into tears again.

"We're here now, and we won't leave you along like that again, I promise." Barbara glared at the Doctor to reinforce her statement. She had disapproved strongly of the Doctor's decision to leave Vicky by herself in the villa, after all, it wasn't exactly safe as had been demonstrated by the slavers who had kidnapped herself and Ian.

The Doctor pretended not to notice but humphed and went inside.

"There was broken crockery all over the place when I got here," Vicky said as they went into the terrace where they had spent most of their time before the adventure had begun. She pointed to a pile of ceramic shards.

"So that's what they hit me with," Ian commented, picking up a shard.

Barbara blushed and looked away, "Yes," was all she said.

"What a mess," he said sadly, he had admired the once fine vase.

"Well I was only trying to help," Barbara said defensively, "It wasn't my fault you got your head in the way."

"You hit me on the head with that?" Ian asked, incredulous.

"Yes… I, um," Barbara stuttered.

"So it was you!," Ian said, advancing on her menacingly. Barbara backed away, but Ian followed her, a wicked glint in his eye as he chased her around the couches, "You're the reason why I was thrown in prison, made to row in a galley, fight like a Roman gladiator."

"What are you going to do?!" Barbara cried as she ran, the Doctor and Vicky laughing their heads off behind her.

"I'll show you what I'm going to do," Ian said as he caught her near the fountain and began to force her head down towards the water.

Barbara shrieked as she fought back, her elbow catching him in the stomach. Ian fell back, melodramatically clutching his still tender torso. Barbara was immediately contrite and went to him, concerned for his wound. He straightened as she approached and caught her in his arms. The pair of them fell backwards onto one of the couches, laughing.

"Come, my child," the Doctor said to Vicky, taking her hand, "Let's go and get ready to leave."

"But…" Vicky started to protest, but the Doctor firmly dragged her away.

Ian and Barbara watched them go before turning back to each other, alone at last.

"Now," Ian said, "Where were we?"

Finis

******

I couldn't help but put in the last bit, it was such a fantastic bit of interplay from the show, and it was rare that companions ever really got a chance for true character development.


End file.
